Ladonna's Quandary

© March 20222 PennameWombat

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story is my second contribution to the "Pink Orchid" author event, hopefully arriving at the absolutely last minute! It features characters from a previous story, "Chasing Robes and Shadows," but isn't meant as a direct sequel. It also features crossover characters from "You Promised Me Geeks: Asha and Tracy," and "Chronicle: Mel and Chris."

That said, this tale is meant to be read on its own, without first reading those other stories. Doing so will add some depth and breadth to those who are minor characters here but shouldn't be necessary to enjoy this one.

The trigger for this story was an online discussion with fellow Literotica user and author Starlust. That said, any errors, omissions, bad writing and such are mine.

Tags: Pink Orchid 2022, Anal Play, Blonde, Female dominant, Exhibitionism, First Time Lesbian, Lesbian D/S, Public Sex, Pussy Eating, Voyeurism

*****

Watching

Joyce

"Whoa. I have badly underestimated you, Detective. You are one nasty cradle robber," Joyce Shaw lowered her binoculars and twisted her head to her left to look at the speaker.

"Wha...," her voice trailed off and was overwhelmed by a swollen burst of music that rose from the large triangular grassy space below them. And the much closer sounds of repeated clicks of a camera shutter.

"You have my r e s p e c t, you jumping THAT every night. That sign down there says 'Spring Carnival, 1986,' and I wonder if that boy of yours was born the same decade," the voice continued in a low and slow growl as soon as the camera went silent.

Shaw saw her companion's mouth below the telephoto camera lens open slightly and a tongue made a show of slowly tracing a path along upper then lower lips before the camera was lowered. A grin was directed at the older detective.

"Always been obvious you're fit, Shaw, impressive stamina," Janice Holmes said as she pointed toward the crowd of people four stories below them, "keeping THAT one busy. But I'm a bit pissed off about it too."

Shaw let out an exhaled laugh but it conveyed plenty of confusion as well as amusement. "Pissed off, Holmes? About what exactly?"

"I figured out which one's your boyfriend down there, and it ain't one of those lame old-ass professors," Holmes gestured with the camera.

"My boyfriend?" Shaw pitched her voice to confused innocence. Holmes snorted.

"Light brown hair, old time pilot's uniform, goggles even, nice and cute... and very, very fit, don't bullshit me you and him aren't knocking nasties nightly," the younger woman kept her voice slow and breathy and brought the camera back to her eye, "but that's just impressive, a senior citizen like you being able to handle what's in those tight pants."

"Senior citizen, TROOPER? You might want to be careful unless you're interested in a permanent switch to parking enforcement," Shaw said firmly, "you're only here because I convinced Pearson I needed someone just smart enough to handle a camera, not think."

"I concede. You're only middle aged... but," two quick shutter clicks, "is he even old enough for a driver's license?"

Shaw let out an exasperated cough. "He's a senior here, gets his degree first part of June, less than a month, he's twenty-two. Well, mostly, doing architecture---."

"Ah, so he's good with erections," Holmes said.

Shaw growled. "And how do you know...."

Holmes laughed as the camera lens scanned across the crowd as she chuckled. "Detective desPlain is a cheap drunk, might've said a bit more than she should've. She didn't TELL me you're letting him slam you every night..."

"Huh? Brenda?"

"She just said you've become, oh, less consistent about nights out with her!"

"Enough," Shaw growled and Holmes offered a conciliatory hum, "she's married now, anyway. We do have a job here."

The younger woman chuckled. "I've had eyes on everyone down there... every... one. Our target hasn't shown yet. But that's why I think I'm not really your friend."

"I convinced Pearson to pull you from patrol and perched you on a fourth floor balcony in plain clothes overlooking an outdoor carnival with hundreds of hot, young university student meat---."

"Hot, young, nicely underdressed meat," Holmes interrupted and it was Shaw's turn to chuckle, "but about your boyfriend."

"He's not really---."

"Okay, detective. About your fucktoy..."

"Watch it."

Holmes laughed as she continued to scan below them. "So, gimme a name other than fucktoy."

Shaw growled but it was half-hearted and she kept her reply soft. "Terry."

"The redhead ninja with the giant tits and her little brunette gunsel from the Broiler kidnapping, I note you haven't told Pearson, your boss, you're knockin' nasties with a friend of theirs," the camera shutter clicked and Holmes lowered it as the auto-rewind whirred.

"He might be my boss but this crew wasn't involved in that. Those two are... only associates of the leaders down there. Nothing to tell."

Holmes snorted. "Leaders? I thought that redhead ninja was wild, stripping in front of everyone at Gatewest, and she's down there dressed as a pirate. Those tits are... well, I'd love to put my face between them. Hell, even her little brunette, her shirt may as well not be there. Might be small, but they're damned nice. But compared to the rest of her crew... that demon and angel with their tits out and those skirts don't even cover their twats and that guy they've got on the leashes... wooee! Now and then I don't mind a dick, his might be worth a one-time detour. But, mostly I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Shaw lowered the binoculars as Holmes put a fresh roll of film into the camera. The younger woman slipped the exposed roll into a small pouch on her belt.

"Not marking that roll?" Shaw asked.

"That one's personal, brought a couple extras. I can't begrudge you Terry the boy toy," Holmes said as she put the camera back to her eye, "but I can be upset you've never introduced me to his sister."

"His what?"

"Please. They're walking side by side, gotta be twins even. Or you gonna bullshit me you've never seen her?"

"Oh," Shaw's voice dripped innocence, "I have met her. Name's Teresa. They live in the same house. Didn't think you'd be interested. Besides..."

"They're like a year younger than me, not decades like you. Not gonna bullshit me either she's straight..."

"Oh, hell no. But," Shaw said, "she's not exactly a free agent."

"She down there, too? Point her out," Holmes offered a sing-song cadence, "nothing against a trio."

"The angel."

Shaw's smile was almost flat as she held the binoculars to her eyes but a quick glance showed Holmes look at her before the trooper again put the camera to her eye.

"The angel?"

"Yeah," Shaw said lightly, "halo, feather wings, white clothes... well, what clothes she's wearing, they're white. Don't mistake white for purity. She's Sam. Samantha."

"She's pulling a hot boy with what seems to be an impressive cock hardly hidden in tight leather on a leash..."

"Her ex," Shaw said, Holmes lowered the camera and stared at the detective, "she's... well, her and the demon. He and the demon are an item. But... they're all flexible, most of 'em. You might work a deal or two."

Holmes exhaled slowly before she laughed. "You mean the boyfriend you hide and ravage nightly lives in a fucking orgy house?"

"If it'll shut you up and we can get back to what we're supposed to be doing here, I promise I'll get you in the door. Both of 'em graduating, will be a party. Rest'll be up to you."

"I'll be expecting the invitation. Just, remember, I have a roll of pictures of this crew. I'm sure Pearson would enjoy hearing about your boyfriend."

Shaw growled. But after a moment she let out an amused exhale.

"You don't know the half of what you're signing up for, Holmes," Shaw said, "just keep in mind."

"Yeah?"

"It all goes to shit, I'll be back on vice busting ten dollar hookers and you'll be writing parking tickets. For life. Mutually assured destruction."

"Works for us and the Soviets," the younger woman said with a laugh, "but, left, just past the corner of that other Union building wing."

"Uh," Shaw said, but she twisted and tracked the binoculars.

"White shirt, jean shorts," Holmes said. The camera shutter clicked.

"That pair he's with?"

"They'd been on the edge of the crowd, I clocked 'em, they seemed less interested in all the flesh on view. Kinda weird for guys that age. But this is your gig, detective, and I only did one year here before I decided I had better things to do with my time, but they look like frat boy dumbasses."

"Get me close ups of all of them, but I agree. Not that it'd be that surprising. Don't lose him."

The camera shutter clicked repeatedly. Shaw held the binoculars with her left hand and used her right to pull the walkie-talkie from her belt.

Graduation

Janice

"Hey, Janice," Janice Holmes heard, or thought she heard, her name. But her gaze and her attention were locked on the pair of very attractive dark-haired women, both tallish and with rather impressive figures. Figures that seemed in a battle to be shown off.

She watched the younger one from behind. Thin denim shorts wrapped her ass and hips. And it was a wonderful ass. From this angle, the bottom thirds of those sweet ass cheeks were exposed and flowed into thighs which showed tone. Janice flexed her own thighs, took a sip of her beer in lieu of letting her tongue loll out of her mouth.

She'd been captivated for the last while by a conversation. A conversation she couldn't hear between two women. But she'd dutifully honed her lip reading ability, it was one of those skills they never mentioned at the Academy, and most of her fellows never picked it up.

She'd learned the basics in junior high, taught by a deaf friend. But it'd been Shaw's discussions of the usefulness of that skill that encouraged Janice to hone it, even attending classes in her free time.

She'd learned more than that from Shaw. The detective might've thought she'd left teaching behind, but the bitch was a natural at it. Not that Janice would ever TELL the older cop that, but she WOULD take advantage.

Directly above the ass that she'd been diligently studying was a firm, muscular back, that was sparsely covered by a bit of white cloth that might possibly be called a tank top. Or, a crop top. The only easy description was 'barely there.' It covered, well, some of the time it covered, tits that were round, not huge, but just about perfect for what Janice wanted to do to them.

The red devil horns that protruded from wavy and sort-of curly black hair that splayed across shoulders were nice. But the devil's tail hooked to the back of those barely-there shorts that shook as the girl talked and laughed simply called attention to that ass. Janice had been running through things she could do to, and with, that ass. And the rest. And, hints had been made that led her to not dismiss the possibility.

But the conversation.

The older woman had similar hair, a couple of inches longer and just a shade lighter. The upper part of her strappy summer dress offered coverage of little more than her nipples, the sides of her breasts and much of her back exposed. And the tits in that dress were almost as gravity-defying, and probably a cup larger, than the younger woman's. The dress ran to the woman's knees, but with most of its buttons unemployed and the bright sunlight on its thin fabric, meant every breeze, every movement, offered views to the attentive.

And if that younger woman had underwear on, they offered little coverage, but the shorts hadn't offered an angle to confirm anything. Careful observation had shown Janice the older woman had foregone panties of any sort. The fullness of the dark bush was unclear, but it seemed to have been trimmed.

But the most easily discerned fact about the two hadn't required such careful observation.

They were mother and daughter. Obvious at even a casual glance.

A fact that made the conversation even more enjoyable. Janice had only the mother's side of things, but that and the view had been enough to leave her happy she'd worn panties that were now soaked, even if only a g-string, and the tightest and skimpiest denim shorts she owned, something she wasn't always certain thighs built by power-lifting were best treated by. But for this crowd... she flexed muscles and felt the pressure against her own flesh. Ah, nice. But she was a bit jealous of the younger woman, her future appeared... rosy, at least in certain ways.

She'd 'studied' the 'private' photos she'd captured from her stint in plain clothes at the University's Spring Carnival, and the sights around her at this backyard gathering weren't quite so unrestrained, but were in no ways disappointing. Although she'd hoped the demonic ass she watched might've been in another too-short skirt, these shorts were no less alluring.

The mother had been a surprise, but the conversation had made clear her reason.

This Devil and her arch-enemy, the Angel, had led a very fit boy in tight leather on leashes at the parade. Apparently, they shared him, when the Angel didn't have her face buried in the pussy of the twin sister of Shaw's boyfriend! More hints seemed to claim the Devil shared the leather boy more widely. More than that Shaw hadn't, quite, said, but Janice paid attention to the spaces between words. It was another skill that benefited a career in law enforcement. Not that Shaw was interested in the sharing, no, she had her OWN piece of young, hot meat to keep her old bones warmed. And the detective didn't share.

But there seemed to be limits as well to what the devil girl was willing to share, where HER leather boy was concerned. This mother had clearly, if not with volume, made the point that "Chris slamming me while I'm here is simply recompense for raising YOU for eighteen years!" Chris. Leather boy.

Devil girl hadn't seemed to agree with that contention. They were Mel and Helen, but Janice preferred Devil and Spawner of Demons for the pair.

After a moment, her next reading forced Janice to clench her jaws to prevent her face being locked in a gaped stare.

"I only had a bit of a suck on it, after it was in YOUR ass! What about MY ass? And you'd got the best part of that load first!"

She'd missed whatever Spawner of Demons had said after whatever the Devil had responded to THAT. Janice's brain had momentarily shut down.

But it'd brought a thought to Janice's mind. Like the Angel, hints and rumors said the Devil would bury her face in a pussy as readily as she no doubt sucked down leather boy's shaft or, apparently, took it up her butt! Janice wasn't really interested in cocks, and what they were attached to, but she might be able to broker a deal with this mother and daughter, insert herself and get everyone what they wanted. Including herself. And every picture she'd taken that day, and every hint she'd pried from Shaw, told her that a drive-by fuck from leather boy might be worth it, despite her lack of general interest. She'd had a couple of guys when she'd just wanted something in her. It'd be nothing more than physical and mostly the Devil could have him. Unless the mother got between...

"Uh, OFFICER HOLMES, report, please," the voice wasn't loud but it was firm, and the EXACT tone and cadence of a pissed-off dispatcher not happy a patrol car hadn't checked in ALREADY. Janice coughed with the remnants of her mouthful of beer and swallowed before she turned.

Joyce Shaw smiled at her. Dirty blonde slightly curly hair fell loosely around her face. From the gym and Force photos of Shaw's days in undercover vice, Janice knew the detective had a sweet set of tits, nicely sized for a frame a couple of inches taller than the younger officer, if the younger woman was overall more solidly built. But her schoolmarm loose and opaque and mostly buttoned blouse, even sleeveless, made you guess at that. Likewise, her thin pants didn't show what Janice knew were also well preserved legs.

"Reporting, detective," Janice said with as much sarcasm as she could, but she smiled and Joyce smirked back. She'd rather hoped Shaw wouldn't introduce her as another cop, but, really, they were over a decade apart in age and it seemed everyone here knew Shaw was a cop herself, so, what else would she be?

Shaw's eyes darted left, toward the continued conversation of the Devil and Spawner of Demons, joined now by that very tall, very weird Anna amazon with the truly gigantic tits and weird, very weird, green eyes, a woman who'd been caught up in part of the Broiler drug robbery slash kidnapping slash knife-fest. Although her tits were better covered than the other two, her elastic top simply created cleavage that Holmes could happily get lost in. That weird bitch's absent boyfriend was the only taller one, based on her photos of the Carnival. They simply couldn't hide. Shaw shook her head slightly as her eyes caught Janice's and she chuckled.

"Janice Holmes," Shaw said, "I'd like to introduce Terry's and Teresa's aunt, Ladonna Young, and her husband Braxton."

Janice fought back her smile when the husband's gaze dragged away from the Demonic mother-daughter pair and the giant-titted Amazon, and back to the trio of women around him. Like a dentist extracting an impacted wisdom tooth, Janice had worked at Shaw about this 'Terry' she was fucking with abandon, and the fact that he and his lesbian sister were from Idaho, and they and their extended family were all members of the local dominant faith, almost universally a very conserative bunch, had been a definite surprise. And whatever had led the twins to their current statuses, one dedicated to sapphic pursuits, the other fucking brainless a police detective fifteen years his senior, this aunt and uncle had apparently avoided it.

"Good to meet you, Janice," Ladonna said, her hair blonder than her niece and nephew, her voice that weird, soft, 'Scandihoovian' accent that they must teach in their Sunday schools. The woman offered her hand and Janice took it.

"Good to meet you, too, Ladonna," Janice said, then Braxton offered her a cursory nod and his hand. Janice read his disinterest as his eyes tried to return to sights clearly more interesting to him. Janice's sleeveless tee wasn't loose, but her broad shoulders and tits that were nice but nothing like what was on view with the demonic trio clearly didn't seem to impress him. He'd likely been nicely built, but already had a developing gut and jowls determined to keep up with it.

Ladonna, on the other hand, seemed to have a figure utterly the opposite of her lithe niece, albeit hidden under a short-sleeved blouse looser than Shaw's and a flowered midi-skirt that offered no clinging fabric. It was a look common locally in the Valley and the state and Janice's trained eye was likewise practiced at peeling those layers.

"But there's no way you can be aunt and uncle," Janice said, with genuine interest, "what are you, like, almost the same age?"

Ladonna chuckled and her long, straight blonde hair shook. "If I could charge people anytime they ask that! No, it's real. Three years older."