Jasmine Fantasies: Going Native

"Proceed with what?"

"That's the best part, Piper, she's a closet submissive. You have read enough of her stories to know that she writes from fantasy. She writes lots of stories about submissive MILFs like herself. Well, I don't know if she actually has kids or not, but it doesn't really matter. She still fits the profile. I think's she around forty, give or take a couple years, she has a nice body, and not actually seeing her face withstanding, I'd like to fuck her. So she's a MILF. Anyway, she seems to get off on the idea, and even admitted in a couple emails that she is submissive to her husband and most of her stories are about submitting to younger girls. Also right up your alley, given your tendencies, and that psycho sister of yours, I think you could have a new plaything and teach her a lesson about pre-judging others at the same time."

"Hey! Don't call Peyton a psycho!" Piper protested, always defending her sister... only she got to call her a psycho. That said, his idea had merit and had her pussy already tingling with anticipation.

Jeff laughed and said, "Piper, she's a psycho and you of all people know it as well as anyone. I didn't say there was anything wrong with it. I think I'm a little thrown off myself. But I embrace it. Nothing wrong with Peyton being crazy. I love both my cousins."

"Will you cut it out with the cousin crap?" she repeated, not sure why it bothered her so much.

"You know you love it. Anyway, I've got to go. Let me know how things go," Jeff said wishing he could be there to see it live if this was the notorious Jasmine. "If it's her, and it turns out the way I predict."

"I think you can turn it, or her, out," Piper said before she hung up. She was surprised her special lez-dar hadn't beeped when the brunette walked into her store.

Jasmine sighed. What was taking so long? She could have pumped her gas, changed her tires (if she knew how to do such a thing) and cleaned the windows twice by now.

Piper hung up and went back to the front. She watched the lady for a minute. She had to think. How was she going to do this? If it was the right woman, she knew she would do something, but what? And how did she determine if it was the right woman? Watching the woman sigh yet again, and seeing Uncle Joe heading toward her car, she suddenly had an idea. She grabbed the phone and dialed his number. "Uncle Joe, please just listen and don't ask questions. I'll explain it all later. When you get to this lady's car and you're checking her oil, could you do something to make the car not run? Nothing permanent. Could you just move a hose or screw or something to make it not run, but will run right away as soon as you put it back?"

Joe was puzzled and looked toward the store, "Well yeah, I can do that, but what the hell are you up to? And do you want me to come tell you the car won't run?"

"I told you I'll tell you later. And don't look this way. I don't want her to get suspicious. Just please do this. It means a lot, and there might be something in it for you later."

"All right, but you're starting to get as crazy as Peyton."

"Thanks Joe, and don't say anything."

Now, that that was over, Piper waited. After filling the car and checking the fluids and tires, Joe walked into the store and gave the total.

Jasmine paid and walked out wanting to get out of this reserve area... it just made her feel uncomfortable.

"Do you mind telling me what that was all about?" Joe asked, once the pretty white woman was gone.

"You remember the writer Jeff told us about? The sex writer who we've read a lot of her stories?" Piper aske, before adding, "Peyton come here, you may want to hear this too. I think that's her."

"You think that's the writer lady he got into it with?" Peyton asked, recalling Jeff ranting about it for...ever.

"He didn't actually get into it with her, it was all through emails. They've never met. But yes, we think that may be her," Piper responded.

"Well, I took the coil wire from her car. It's only a couple bucks if you want to go through with this," said Joe, "but it won't start without it. And what's this about making it worth my time?"

Piper responded, "How would you like some white pussy, Uncle Joe?"

"I would like pussy no matter the color, but I sure don't know if I like what you two crazies have cooking, especially not knowing what it is."

"Hey" Peyton said, "I'm not cooking up anything, at least not yet. Why am I a crazy?"

"OK, sorry, I guess I'm just going on past experience." "

Quiet you two and listen. She'll be back here in a minute, complaining about her car. Joe, you go 'look at it' and then 'discover' the coil wire. Tell her it's a simple fix but you can't get the part until tomorrow. I'll offer her a hotel room. While I'm making arrangements, and she's fuming I'm sure, I'm going to make some innocent comments that should let us know for sure. If I don't think it's her, she gets a night in the hotel and the bitch can be on her way tomorrow. She probably deserves some type of comeuppance, but it won't come from us. But if it is, we're in for a night of fun, and she gets taught a lesson about racism."

"Hell yeah." Peyton chimed in, always excited when getting a big O was involved. She added, "I may try to fuck her regardless of whether she is that writer or not.

"I don't even know what you're up to, but if it gets me laid, I'm in," Joe pondered a moment before agreeing, "I wouldn't mind some of that white tang. She looks like she could go hard once you get past the prima donna look. But I'm still holding back until I see what you two nut jobs are up to."

"Hey!" Peyton protested again, though it was through laughter.

"Nope, you bought into her scheme, so now you're back to being crazy alongside her," Joe said.

"Once again," Peyton laughed, "If it gets me laid, I'm all in. We do run a gambling establishment you know. So my chips are on the table."

Joe shook his head and wandered outside waiting for the signal to come back.

In just a moment, after primping in her mirror, and making sure the windows were clean, (after all, that old Indian was supposed to wash them), Jasmine tried starting her car. The engine turned over but would not start. She tried again. Nothing. "This cannot be happening," she said out loud to no one. Trying without results a few more times, she got out of the car in frustration and returned to the store.

"Is there something else I can do?" Piper asked in a sugary voice.

"My car won't start. I don't suppose you know someone who can come look at it," Jasmine asked, annoyed.

"I can do better than that. Joe, the guy who filled your car, is a mechanic. He also has a shop in a lot adjacent to our property. I can just get him back over. I'm sure he can figure it out," Piper replied cheerfully, excited that her plan was now in action. The more she thought about it, she was going to fuck this white bitch regardless of whether she was the racist author or not.

"I would appreciate it," Jasmine replied curtly, while thinking, 'Crap, how much longer do I have to deal with these Indians?

Piper called Joe back and after a few minutes he made his way back to the store. Piper explained the situation to him, and Joe made his way out to check out Jasmine's car. Once he had the hood opened, Joe piddled around with the engine, obviously already knowing what was wrong with the car. After what he determined to be a sufficient amount of time, he closed the hood, and came back to the store. "I found your problem," he spoke to Jasmine. "Your coil wire is worn out. Your car won't start without it."

"Oh and isn't that convenient," Jasmine said suddenly suspicious that her car was fine before she stopped for gas... so fucking typical of an Indian. "And I suppose for the right fee, you can replace it with no problem. How much do you want to gouge me for? A hundred? Two hundred? What's the total? I obviously have no choice, so just tell me, so I can pay and get out of this godforsaken place."

Biting her tongue, Piper remained calm, deciding this bitch did need to be knocked down a few rungs regardless of who she was, and stated, "Now there's no need to be nasty like that. Uncle Joe would never do such a thing."

"Uncle Joe?" was Jasmine's retort, even as Piper realized she probably shouldn't have revealed that at the moment, "I should have known what a scam this was. So what's it going to be, Uncle Joe?"

"About five dollars," Joe replied stone faced, "Only problem is I can't get the part until tomorrow. You could stay at the hotel and we'll get you a deal."

Jasmine was momentarily chastened, then continued, "Oh, so the part won't be expensive, but you get me at the hotel, is that it?"

Piper smirked inwardly, 'If you are who I think you are, you have no idea how true that statement is. Just not the way you think.' Yet, she said, "Why of course not, ma'am. I would have to charge you something of course, but we do have a good reputation, and I intend to keep it. I'll charge you the going rate for a single room, but I will upgrade it to a suite at no extra charge."

Jasmine was only slightly chagrined, and agreed to the terms. Jasmine noticed, for the first time, that the Indian, who was very pretty, especially for an Indian, was wearing nylons with her rather stereotypical Indian wear. Odd... interesting... but odd.

Arrangements were made, and Piper drove her to the hotel herself. Upon bringing her to the suite, Piper asked Jasmine if everything was acceptable and could she do anything else. Jasmine, though not wanting to admit it, thought the room was gorgeous. And the king sized bed made her wish her husband could have been there. They could have had fun on that. "No, this is fine. If I must stay overnight, this will do." Jasmine spoke, unable to not speak with disdain, even though she had no reason to.

"Well, in this suite, you will find the mini-bar is fully stocked, and there is a garden tub with jet spray in the bathroom," Piper continued, needing to distract Jasmine temporarily to execute her plan.

As Jasmine moved to check out the mentioned amenities, Piper spoke once more. "I sometimes stay in one of our suites myself. They're very comfortable, and give you peace to just kick back and do some relaxing. I frequently just like to come here alone and read. Do you read Mrs. Winston?"

"I am a teacher," Jasmine responded, barely listening and wondering why this woman was still in her room.

"What do you read?" Piper asked.

Jasmine just wanted to be left alone, she wanted to finish the long resisted orgasm she started this morning... and although Piper was an Indian, she was pretty hot, and the nylons had her slightly turned on... although she would never admit such a thing. She answered, "Teen literature mostly, but I also like classics like Jane Austin and Charles Dickens."

"I like Austin too," Piper said, "although I'd be lying if I didn't admit the most common reading I do is erotica."

Jasmine wondered to herself what were the odds that this Indian had come while reading one of her stories. "I would never read such things," Jasmine lied, already deciding if she was stuck here all night she would continue working on the '2 Mistresses' series she was writing. Only a couple parts had been released, but she was currently on chapter six in writing it (often she had stories done months in advance).

"Never?" Piper questioned, as she took off one of her moccasins.

"I get enough at home, thank you," Jasmine replied, even as she glanced down to the Indian's foot... feet in stockings being her fetish.

"Do you? I thought your husband was in oil and gone a lot?" Piper added, going past the point of no return, as she moved her nylon-clad foot in and out of her moccasin, trying to tease her like many of Jasmine's characters in her stories did.

"How do you know that?" Jasmine asked, suddenly feeling that something wasn't right here.

"Oh, I know a lot about you," Piper said, slipping her foot back in the moccasin and walking towards her new prey.

"Please leave," Jasmine demanded, thinking something incredibly wrong with the entire situation.

"For example, you're a racist," Piper accused, now directly in front of the on the defensive teacher.

"I am not," Jasmine protested, although she knew it was a lie.

"I know you have a thing for nigger cock and pussy, and yet Indian pussy does nothing for you," Piper said, as her hand moved to the hem of Jasmine's dress.

Jasmine was flustered. This Indian was turning her on, this Indian knew things she shouldn't know and this Indian was hitting on her. She pushed the Indian's hand away, ignoring the excitement down below and said, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You sure?" Piper asked, knowing when a submissive was on the brink of losing control and Jasmine was definitely beginning to teeter on the edge.

"Yes, I'm sure," Jasmine responded, annoyed by this Indian as well as her own body's betrayal. Fuck, she really did need to get laid.

"I'm not convinced," Piper said, "I mean, you remind me a lot of my favourite author... Jasmine Walker."

Jasmine's eyes went big at someone using her author name... no one used her author's name with her. She stammered, "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about."

It was obvious this Jasmine was the one and only silkstockingslover. Piper knew she had the racist bitch in her clutches. "I think you do. The picture Jeff sent me matches you completely... as does your superiority complex over us Indians. Isn't that right, Jasmine Walker, also known as silk...stockings...lover"

Jasmine froze.

Piper smiled as she watched all the colour drain from the bitch's face.

This Indian knew who she really was. How? Jeff was an American, so he wouldn't be here... would he? Yet, she tried to regain control as she asked, her tone angry, "How did you know that? No one knows that, not even my husband or my sisters."

"Some deductive reasoning, a call to Jeff, a picture sent from Jeff of your profile page in which you are wearing the exact same dress, you're staring at my foot in nylon, and your reaction to this conversation," Piper listed.

"I need to go," Jasmine said, desperate to get out of there before things got any worse.

"Actually I think it's time I teach you a lesson in racial equality," Piper countered.

"What does that even mean?" Jasmine asked, finding this Indian rather pretentious.

"Well Mrs. Walker, Jasmine, Mrs. Winston or do you prefer silkstockingslover, you should really learn to bring your racial prejudices into line with modern times. Today people are judged as individuals, not by what group they belong to."

"What do you mean?" Jasmine repeated.

"You had a working relationship with a man once. You worked well together and both seemed to benefit from it. Then you shot him down, because he dared suggest a native character. That man was my friend, and he didn't take it too well. Had you not continued with such an attitude today, I would probably not have noticed your name and called to ask him about you. From the limited description he could give me from your vague profile photo, your smug attitude, and the fact that you are wearing that same dress, and stockings, we decided to call you out, and you responded oh so appropriately."

"So what are you going to do?" Jasmine asked realizing her whole career was in danger.

"Oh fortunately for you, I'm not a vindictive person...much. Actually I think I'm going to fulfill a fantasy of yours. Isn't that charitable of me?" Piper continued, putting her hands on the author's shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Jasmine asked, as she felt hands on her shoulders... just like in many of her stories.

"I mean, my submissive little slut, I'm going to make you into one of the characters in your many lesbian stories," Piper considered, as she pushed the stunned white woman to her knees. "Imagine I'm an Indian Bree and you, my teacher slut, the submissive cunt muncher."

Jasmine felt her knees give out, even as she protested, "That is all just fiction."

Piper laughed as she looked down at the pretty woman. "You're just a submissive in denial, I have read lots of your stories and the underlying theme is always one of submitting to younger women... teens even. You long to be a sub. And now you get the chance to be a submissive little whore you always write about. And I get a place in which to rest my sopping wet cunt...right across those little lips of yours."

"But that's just fantasy," Jasmine protested even though she didn't try to get off her knees. Truthfully, she had had this fantasy a million times, written about it dozens of times and yet never acted on it. And although she had always found Indians unattractive... that was based on stereotypes and a racist upbringing and not from any up close experience. Looking up at this woman... she was prettier than most she fantasized about.

Piper lifted her buckskin dress, revealing her glory in nothing but thigh highs and moccasin boots, and asked, "Have you ever eaten cunt, Jasmine?"

"No, I am straight," Jasmine said, even as she stared at the shaved pussy inches from her. She had always wondered what would happen if such a moment happened... having imagined a few special students every year who would take her in the classroom and make her their personal cunt muncher. But again... that was just fantasy.

Piper ignored the author's unconvincing pleas and scoffed, "You're nothing but a submissive slut who is finally going to become one of her characters. And once I'm done with you and you go on your merry way I expect you to write this story, and publish it. Now stare at my pussy, slut."

And Jasmine did... actually she already was. The pussy lips glistening ever so slightly, looking so inviting.

"God, you really are a hungry little cunt muncher," Piper laughed, as she grabbed the back of the brunette's head and drew her into her box.

Jasmine was stunned by both the sudden grab as well as the strong, sweet scent... just as she imagined... just as she had written about so many times.

"Get licking, silkstockingslover, I know you will enjoy it. Perhaps not as much as I will, but you will enjoy it."

Jasmine, even though she had written this scene a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, never expected it would happen. And yet it was one thing to have a fantasy, and quite another to be almost lip to lip with a dripping wet snatch, albeit two different sets of lips. And this was a Native American. An Indian! She had nothing but disdain for their kind her entire life. If it had been another white woman, or perhaps a black one, she might already be licking, but an Indian? Yet, this Indian... she was pretty, had a great body and a beautiful cunt... and she was so dominant.

Piper lightly rubbed her lower lips across Jasmine's upper ones as she ordered, "Go ahead teacher, you know you want it. I'm giving you the chance to submit and become the cunt lapping lesbo you crave to be. How many people get the chance to live out their fantasies? Go ahead. I'm sure you will be an excellent pussy licker, you've fantasized about this for years. Go on now, suck my cunt."

Jasmine wasn't a lesbian. She was a married wife of two. Yet...here she was, on her knees, her face buried in a ripe young cunt. Jasmine could no longer resist. Native or not, the delightful bouquet of a twat had her mesmerized. Losing the last of her inhibitions, she did what her character would do... what she had always fantasized doing... in truth, why she started writing... she extended her tongue and lapped.

"That's it. Lick that Indian pussy! It's good, isn't it?" Piper wanted to remind the racist bitch what she was munching on... who she was submitting to.