All the Young Girls Love Laura Pt. 04

So, I was in a state of flux, but it wasn't going to affect my ability to do my job. I love having sex with other women for pay - the sex is great and the money is terrific. While I waited to better understand my position with Melissa, I continued working. This assignment would take me away from my normal world, leaving my phone behind.

My assignment with Teresa would not be difficult, I felt. It was a simple seduction, and those usually go the same way more or less. Put the woman at ease, and work your way into her zone of security - let her let me get close to her. It's as easy as falling off a log from that point on, and it's the best way to seduce a woman.

Again, if men would take the time to be non-threatening, and move at the woman's pace, they'd win her almost every time and I'd be out of a job! Well, not really, LOL. Have you ever HAD sex with another woman? It's fantastic!

Chapter 5

I found myself following elderly Sister Maria down what resembled a hotel hallway, with rooms set apart at regular intervals, the hallway somewhat blank and austere, except for small personal items that each Sister had displayed outside her door on a shelf set at about hip height.. Pictures of loved ones, pretty landscape scenes, samples of their own art, or crafts made by a family member were all on display. It almost made me wonder what life would have been like if I had actually joined a convent.

"Boring," I decided. And I didn't think that even a convent full of liberal-minded nuns like those at The Sisters of Care and Hope could keep up with my sex drive. But it was both fun and profitable to at least seduce and fuck a nun every now and then, and I was grateful to Mother Superior for the business.

Sister Maria knocked at the door. "Sister Teresa?" she whispered into the maple wood. "You have a guest for the evening."

After a few seconds, the door opened, and a pretty woman with black hair, wearing a white blouse and a sand-colored skirt looked at us, her eyes blinking through her reading glasses.

"Guest?" she responded, her face a mask of confusion. "I'm not expecting..." Then she remembered that as a member of the Order of nuns she had taken a vow to obey authority, and that if Mother Superior had decided she was to have a guest, then she would have a guest. It mattered little what her own plans might have been. I felt a little sorry for that. I would have a lot of trouble obeying authority.

"This is Laura Jones, Sister," Sister Maria explained. "She's traveling on Church business and will be staying here with you for the night. Won't you make her welcome?" With that, not waiting for an answer, Sister Maria headed off, shuffling down the hall.

Most of the nuns in the Order knew exactly who I was - Laura Hendricks, a lesbian courtesan - but on occasion I would take on the identity of Laura Jones, postulant new to the Order, or Laura Jones, visitor from the Archbishop's office - usually with new initiates to the Order.

"I'm so sorry to impose on you," I said. "I'll try not to be a bother."

"Oh please, come in, come in," Sister Teresa said, a smile finally lighting up her face. "Although the building is packed with women, sometimes it's lonely...I welcome your company!"

Well, it didn't appear that Sister Teresa's problem lie in her personality, I found her humorous, very intelligent and personable. And cute, too. She was short and slim, attractive as I've said, and her hair was glossy black, and cut very short. I felt a little envy. I've always wanted to cut my hair as short as a boy's, but my patrons insist they like it much longer.

"It's more feminine that way," they say, which is their way of saying that they get an extra kick out of fucking a girl who looks like a girl.

As the saying goes, "She who pays the piper calls the tune."

I entered, trailed by my cheap suitcase, the same semi-prop that I had brought to my very first meeting with Sister Martina.

"Oh, you can put that here," she said, leading me into her bedroom. The apartment was a small two room suite, with a sitting/living area and a bedroom off it. There was a small bathroom as a part of the bedroom, with only a sink and a toilet. The nuns had a communal shower with private shower stalls separate from the apartments. I had been in that shower on several quite delightful occasions with some of the Sisters. Finally, there was a small window in the bedroom overlooking a service courtyard.

"I'm afraid there's only the bed, I don't have a sofa. Perhaps Mother could arrange for a cot for me while you sleep in the bed?" She looked a little confused, surprised that a Mother Superior as organized as Sister Martina would neglect the sleeping arrangements.

"Well, if and when the cot comes, I'll be more than happy to sleep there. It'll be much better than the hotels our travel stipend covers," I said, smiling at her. Of course I knew the cot would never show up, the whole idea was to get us in bed together.

I looked at the bed. It was delightfully small. We might not get much sleep, but I was pretty certain we'd get a lot of pleasure together...eventually, if I succeeded.

We moved back to the living room and sat down and talked, Teresa telling me about her studies as an academic, then backwards to her childhood. I listened intently, as her words and body language as she spoke would be keys to her seduction. She was very proud of her academic achievements, but then spoke longingly of her friendships as a child.

It seemed to me that she might have felt she had sacrificed too much human contact in immersing herself in her studies. But it seemed odd for someone who wanted to increase their interaction with others to join a convent, essentially removing herself from much of it.

"You are very knowledgeable about so much," I replied after her initial recitation of her curriculum vitae. "Perhaps you could help me with this. Someone in the office gave me this music player, but I don't understand the meaning of these songs, but they're very beautiful..."

It was an MP3 player with small speakers, loaded with Brahms. I had been told that he was a favorite of hers. I turned it on, and music, though somewhat muted and tinny on the small speakers, filled the air around us.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That's Brahms, Symphony Number 1."

"It's very pretty," I said, letting the music fill her head and take her away to a more relaxed place. We listened to it for about five minutes, her blue eyes closed, mine watching her.

She reopened her eyes. "We're not allowed to have music in our apartments until we've taken our full vows," she apologized.

"But there's nothing to say that a guest can't have music, is there?" I asked.

An impish smile grew on her face. "No, I suppose not," she replied. We sat in silence a few minutes more, and then I began stretching out my arm and shoulders.

"Oh, this bursitis," I sighed.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, a concerned look growing on her attractive face.

"No..." I replied slowly."It's just that I'm missing the stretching exercises that my sister helps me with."

"Is there anything that I can do?" she responded, her eyes bright with the beauty of the music surrounding us.

"Well, yes," I replied, seemingly reluctant. "She would massage my shoulders and back. It does a world of good."

"I can do that," she said. "If you just let me know if I'm doing it right."

Soon I was seated on a small ottoman, Teresa seated behind me in the chair, her strong fingers gently manipulating my shoulders and back. After about ten minutes of our joint contact, I spoke up.

"I think that's done it, thank you so much...Teresa," I replied, looking into her blue eyes, wide and innocent. "Now I must return the favor."

"Oh, that's not necessary," she said too quickly.

"Oh, it is," I said. "One thing my sister and I noticed is that giving massages creates tension in the person giving the massage. It's almost like that person absorbs the other person's tension. It will only take a few minutes, and you'll sleep so much better."

"Well, if you say so," she responded. We switched places, and I began an all out massage assault on her back and shoulders, lightly touching her through her blouse, then progressing to deeper, more forceful massage.

"There's an awful lot of tension here, Teresa," I said conversationally, as her body rocked back and forth from my attentions. Her skin was warm, her body so feminine under my touch. But I wanted to feel her, not her blouse.

"I've been worrying," she said, her voice trailing off. She wanted me to follow that up.

"Oh...why?" I asked bringing my face closer to her neck, she could just feel my breath, warm and moist on the sensitive nape. She shivered.

"Can I tell you, in confidence?" she asked, turning her head to look into my eyes. Her eyes flickered down to my lips for just a second, and then returned to searching my eyes.

"Of course, dear," I said, my tongue lightly touching my lip. "In strictest confidence."

She hesitated, and then began speaking. "I think that Mother Superior might think that I'm too aloof from the others. She tells me that getting along with the other Sisters is critical in a small community like ours. I want to be more sociable, but I'm afraid."

"Of what?" I asked.

"Of my fondness for them," she said. "You'll never, ever tell anyone this?" She didn't turn to look at me this time, only bowed her head, apparently enjoying my touch. Her eyes were closed, a sure sign that the pleasure of another woman's touch - even if in complete innocence - was getting to her.

"I swear I won't," I said. Maybe I'd burn in hell for lying to her, but since I didn't believe in hell, I could live with that concern.

"When I was in college, my roommate and I...we, um, did things?"

"Things?" I repeated, my pussy moistening. Lucky roommate!

"We were...very close, at times," she whispered.

"You mean that you experimented...with another girl?" I tried to sound as sympathetic as possible - it wasn't hard.

"Yes...I know it was a sin," she said.

"Oh, not really," I replied nonchalantly.

"What?" she exclaimed, surprised.

"There was the old concept of sexuality somehow being a sin," I replied. "But that attitude went out the window a long time ago in the new Church. Sexuality, and the pleasure that comes from it, is a gift from Him. He wants us to make use of it, as he wants us to make use of our intellect and our capacity to love our neighbor - agape, I mean," using the greek word for the form of love we feel for mankind.

"But eros," she said, "Isn't that forbidden outside of marriage?" Here she was referring to the love for another in the erotic sense, the sexual sense.

"The various forms of love aren't separate and distinct in reality like they are in a textbook. You can feel each, or even all, but hopefully not none for others. That's how our religion works today."

"Really?" she said, her eyes wide as she swiveled around to face me.

"Yes...I wouldn't lie to you," I lied, as I leaned in and kissed her soft cheek. I could feel her shiver and her arms started to go around me, then she pulled back.

"I'm sorry-" she began, but I leaned in and kissed her again, this time on her warm, full lips. She leaned forward into me as our lips touched, and her arms went around me this time, pulling me close, our bodies melding together, breasts pressing together, our warm breath racing over each other's cheeks.

We kissed for long minutes, and then I pulled away a few inches, my eyes on hers. "What you did with your roommate - He celebrates that - it's a wonderful thing in His eyes."

She fully accepted my words, and brought her lips to mine, taking the initiative in kissing me now. My left hand went to her breast, caressing her warm, round breast through her blouse and bra. She sighed and shivered again.

"It's been so long," she sighed.

"You don't need to wait any longer," I whispered in her ear, my tongue touching her lightly there. "Join your sisters in love."

I began unbuttoning her blouse, and I knew we were home free when she didn't try to stop me but instead began unbuttoning my dress. My fingers trembled as I freed each button of the plain white tunic from its hole. You would think that, after all the women that I've enjoyed since I discovered I was a lesbian, I would be jaded, but the opposite is true.

I know that I will be unearthing amazing pleasures and treasures from within each new woman, and it excites me incredibly. I like to think that this sense of wonder communicates to my partners, and makes our lovemaking an even more wonderful experience.

"Teresa, you're so beautiful, you need to share yourself with your sisters here...I want to show you all the wonder and sacred pleasure that you can bring them, and that they will stir in you," I whispered in her ear, my breath touching her and making her shudder and writhe.

"Yes," she murmured, the one word a plea for me to open up the gates of her personal sexual paradise, something that I was more than anxious to do. "Please...please..."

I finished with her buttons and pulled her blouse off her shoulders even as we continued to kiss, her lips so soft and warm on mine, a gentle feminine touch against my skin. Her eyes were closed as she felt the bliss of another woman's knowing touch. Her breathing became ragged as her blood flow and her attention soon turned to awareness of her clitoris, a part of her that guilt and shame had caused her to unnecessarily neglect.

I kissed her soft shoulders, warm and smooth, the scent of her body radiating off her, tinged by a faint smell of her sweat. It excited me and I pushed her blouse further off her, down her back to the chair and down her arms. She aided me by wriggling her hands through the bunched fabric until her arms were naked, so that her upper body was clothed only in her very plain bra, clean and in good condition, but hardly exciting other than in its ability to conceal her sweet assets and tease me.

I leaned in and kissed her throat, as she lifted her chin to allow me access, surrendering her vulnerability to another woman, signaling the cauldron of desire bubbling within her and threatening to overflow. Her scent there was exciting, too, and I felt as though I could just eat her up, or failing that, at least lick her body in all its deliciously randy aspects.

"You taste so good Teresa," I gasped. She giggled.

"Then eat me up," she whispered, her conversion to willing participant amazingly fast. I took it to mean that she had already reached an emotional crisis point before I had come along, that I was only the spark that lit the fuse that was even now burning hotly between her legs.

So, boldly, I slipped my hand between her thighs, inside her skirt, her legs parting to allow me access to her hot and damp feminine center.

"Oh god," she moaned, though I doubted that we were still having a religion-based conversation.

My fingers encountered the thin fabric of her panties - granny panties, no doubt, as one usually does when a nun - though their innate sexiness, or lack thereof, would be moot given that she wouldn't be wearing them much longer. My fingers expertly pulled them aside at her gusset, exposing her pussy, damp and growing wetter so fast, my index finger tracing the thin swell of her labia, already growing fatter as blood rushed to fill her genitals.

Chaste fingernail skating along and over sensitive pussy lips, Teresa jerked and moaned as I caressed her there, her hips lifting up from her seat as my fingertip neared her clitoris.

"Oh...oh...oh," she moaned, her mouth fastening in a kiss to my shoulder through my dress fabric, then turning into a barely constrained bite as she came for the first time.

"Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod," she gasped, then laughed in joy, then cried - not in guilt, but in sheer happiness at the heavenly pleasure that she was sure was sent from the Creator - and of course, in her world it was, as He gave her all things good and bad.

As for me, it didn't really matter where it came from. I have always been grateful for pleasure, though I'm not so certain where to send the thank you notes.

Her hips shook as she fully absorbed the millions of pleasurable nerve impulses that comprise only a part of the female orgasmic experience. She clutched me to her, fortunately letting slip her teeth from my shoulder. My finger lingered at her labia. I was certain that, while she had cum, she hadn't experienced the overwhelming orgasm that would make her too sensitive to continue. Still, I gave her a moment to gather herself.

Her breathing slowed and I moved my finger toward her clit, just as she began breathing her gratitude for her first orgasm in god alone knows how long.

"Oh Laura, that was the most fantastic-" Suddenly she stopped, catching her breath, her body - most of it - freezing as my finger circled her swollen, wet clitoris in a slowly closing spiral, with her tiny button at the center.

She squeaked, then emitted a soft whine, incapable of words, her hips rotating, her thighs closing together, far too late to stop my finger from its tantalizing tease of her most sensitive sexual organ. She looked at me, her eyes frantic as I took her far beyond any pleasure that she'd ever felt before, whether in her shy experimentation with another girl at school, or the clumsy fumblings of some boy as she sought to define her sexuality.

She was now entering uncharted territory.

"Ohmygod," she moaned. Her eyes literally rolled back in her head - I thought that was some kind of myth - then she opened her eyes again and the look of love there was unmistakable. "Oh god Laura, I love you," she moaned, then groaned as her thighs began to shake uncontrollably.

"Unnh um um um fuck," she got out, then buried her face in my shoulder as she came for that second time, far more massive and overwhelming than any physical or emotional sensation that she'd experienced before. I could feel the top of my dress wetting and I realized that she was crying with joy.

"Oh god Laura, I'm so embarrassed," she said. "Please don't think I'm a horrible slut for letting you touch me," she begged.

"Let those old destructive thoughts slip away, Teresa," I cooed. "You're a new woman, capable of enjoying yourself and feeling pleasure, just as you can feel pain when you're hurt. They're all gifts from the Creator, don't waste them, use them to the fullest and share them with others."

Sometimes I amaze myself with the things I come up with. And it made me wonder if perhaps there really is a Creator who was using me to do Her work. If there is one, She's a She, not a He - that's non-negotiable for me.

Teresa looked up at me, her face so radiantly happy, streaks of shiny wet running down her cheeks, a beautiful blush under them. She looked so beautiful like that, I almost felt bad that she had decided to shut herself up with the other women of the Order, but I shrugged mentally. We all make our choices and make the best of them.

I had a feeling that from now on, Teresa's life was going to become very, very happy.

"I want to do so many things with you tonight, sweetheart," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear."Let's go into the bedroom."

She rose from the chair as I took her hand, her blouse falling back to the chair.

"Let's get more comfortable," I said. "I want to see the beauty of the Creator's work." I leaned into her for a leisurely but passionate kiss, both arms going around her, my hands going to the simple hook and eyes clasp at the back of her bra, unhooking it and peeling away the bra straps from her sides and under her arms. She shrugged off the thin straps on her shoulders, and the bra fell to the floor.

In an expected reflex of modesty, her arms crossed her chest, her hands over each breast.