Peaches and Honey Ch. 02byPacoFear©
Author's Warning: This is the other half of the story and it is fairly long. It also rotates from Heather's perspective to Samantha's. She's naughtier and dirtier and more troubled. I hope that comes through.
Also, as fair warning, I sniffled when I wrote parts of this. It gets a bit mushy, but you guys saw that coming right? I mean, Samantha is my attempt at a tragic figure. If I can't get you to mist up at least a little over her life, I'm not doing my job over here.
And yes, there's sexy stuff aplenty in here too. Trust me.
Everybody's over eighteen. I am. My cat is. You are too. Right?
Peaches & Honey Ch. 02 -- Petite Beauty's Heart Takes Two to Mend
**~~Part 1: Peace is a lie, there is only passion~~**
Cheese popcorn? Check. Giant flat screen tv? Check. Second-rate boyfriend upstairs in bed snoring away? Check.
Fred Astaire time.
I've always loved dancing and I've always loved black and white movies. Put the two together and you get Fred Astaire. Goddammit that man could dance. I'm a ballet girl at heart so Baryshnikov and Nureyev get their props, but when you're talking sheer entertainment, I'll actually take the Fredster any day.
Easter Parade was possibly my favorite of his movies. He does this long number in a toy store that is just amazing. I still can't believe he was fifty years old when they filmed it.
I know this will sound a bit creepy, but well… Freddie makes me kinda hot. One of the first times I'd ever masturbated was while I was watching one of his movies alone in my bedroom. Yeah, I pretty much started out kinky.
When I settled myself in for that long night of movie watching, starting with Easter Parade, it was a work night, but I've never needed a lot of sleep. I'm more of a catnapper, which is a good thing because I haven't slept all that well in awhile. It's the stupid nightmares.
What does a twenty-three year old girl have nightmares about? Well, take your pick: the love of my life that was killed by a drunk driver; hunting down that same drunk driver myself a year later to "even" things up; being anally raped by my uncle; or watching my grandmother die right in front of me when I was nine years old. They're the biggies.
I've seen things, done things, and had things done to me that no girl my age should. It's okay, I don't talk about that stuff much. Daddy always said that nobody likes a crybaby. So, I have a little baggage. Let's move on.
My point is, it wasn't unusual that I was staying up late. Or that I was holed up on the couch with a giant bowl of buttered popcorn that I'd smothered with good parmesan cheese. Or that I was shoveling it into my face in a very un-ladylike way.
But the soft knock at the front door in the middle of the night... now that was unusual.
I knew that voice. In one word, from a room away, and through a thick door, I still knew the voice. My best friend. My lover. My sweet "Peaches." Heather.
Yeah, I've got a girlfriend too. Trust me, a little girl-girl action on the side is the least of my sins. I mean, you caught the part about me killing a guy right? Don't go wussy on me. He had it coming, and Sicilians, even half ones like me, don't forgive. We wait.
"Coming, girlie." I paused the TiVo and I was licking butter off my fingers on the way to the door and brushing cheese crumbs off my black satin robe. My hair was a mess too. I'd probably looked better.
Just before I opened the door, I remembered to wipe my greasy mouth with the back of my wrist. My breath would be horrible but there was no time to do anything about that.
Some women are pretty all the time: first thing in the morning; after pulling an all-nighter; even when they stagger home from a long run on a blistering hot day.
I have my moments, but I'm not one of those lucky, perpetually pretty people.
But my girlfriend is. And that night was a perfect example.
When I opened the door, Heather was standing on my porch. She was visibly drunk, sobbing, and soaking wet from the rainstorm she had braved to come see me.
And yet, as god is my witness, she was still drop-dead gorgeous.
Her wet brassy blonde hair was plastered to her beautiful face. Her giant deep blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying and her cute little yellow top and jeans were glued to her bikini model's body. Her yellow silk top and bra were soaked, revealing her puckered nipples. Basically, Heather made pitiful look insanely sexy. Like a miniature playboy bunny that got lost in a storm and came looking for help.
I'm in love with my mini-bunny. She knows it. And I know she loves me too. We traded the "L" word the same weekend we shared a bed for the first time a few weeks ago.
I had been with other women before, plenty actually, but that had been mostly about good sex and a little kinship. Heather was the first girl I fell in love with. The last one too. There will never be another woman for me. I've told her that too.
"Sam!" she sobbed and pressed her cool, rain-soaked body against me.
I was instantly wet. Yeah, both ways. Heather turns me on. At least I can hide it… the effect she has on men is a lot more obvious.
"I... we need... I did something soooo bad…" she was drunk and upset, struggling with her words.
I didn't need her to explain. I had the basics already. If a picture is a worth a thousand words then a smell is worth a million. Two smells are worth two million. Heather reeked of whisky and cum. She'd slept with a guy.
"It's okay, love, I can... uh... kinda smell what you did tonight," I rubbed her back as she clutched me.
"Oh god, I should have showered before coming over here," she sighed into my shoulder, "I'm such an ass."
"So did you come here to dump me for this new mystery guy, Peaches?"
The blunt question surprised her. She jerked back to look at me with desperation in her big blues, "What?! No! I'd never..."
"Good," I cut her off and I tugged her towards the couch, "then come on over here and snuggle with me. We're both wet and its chilly in here. I'm cold so you must be freezing. Let me go get us some dry clothes."
I ditched my damp robe in the laundry room and pulled on one of Danny's long sleeve t-shirts from a pile on the dryer. The soft white cotton hit me at the knees. I came back with a matching grey one for Heather.
"Strip for me chickie?" I waved the dry t-shirt at her.
"Wow," her eyebrows were knitted, "okay, uh, this is going much differenter than I expected."
Differenter? Wow, she was hammered. Heather may have been built like an A-list stripper but she was one of the smartest people I'd ever met. The blonde hair and big boobs were a disguise.
"Differenter, huh?" I teased her.
"Oops, differently," she corrected and swayed slightly even while sitting down.
I watched as she struggled to undress. In her defense, her clothes were dripping wet and hard to get off. I pitched in to help her peel her top up and over her head.
"Well, Love, what did you expect me to do?"
Her little black flats popped off but her jeans were even harder than her top. We had to work them down together, revealing the smooth, lean legs of a young athlete. Once her pants were off, it left her in a matching blue bra and panty set. I'd bought it for her because it matched her eyes.
Great, I'd bought the underwear my girlfriend wore to seduce someone else. Ouch, best not to think about that too hard.
I tugged down the small thong and tried not to look at her smoothly shaven little mound with its tiny, puffy, and utterly lickable lips. I unsnapped her bra then slid it off without looking at her large round breasts either. If I did, I'd want to touch them, suck on them, pull her little pink nipples into my mouth and nibble on them.
Heather was drunk and vulnerable. I was sober and horny. Touching her right then felt wrong, like taking advantage of her. In another time and with another woman I would have. And not felt the least bit bad about it. But not Heather. Never Heather.
"I dunno, Sam, I farigured," she slurred, then paused to get control of her tongue, "I mean, figured there would be a lot more yelling."
I had to help her pull the t-shirt on over her head too. She was even clumsier than usual.
"Because you slept with a guy, huh?"
I sat next to her and spread an oversized, extra thick faux fur blanket over both of us.
"Well," her little blonde eyebrows squished together again uncertainly, "yeah. That's how this was supposed to work."
"We can talk about your adventure when we've both warmed up a little and you've sobered up a lot," I pulled her legs across mine and rubbed the firm muscles of her thighs beneath the blanket to warm them up. "In the meantime, let's watch a movie. I was in the middle of a Fred Astaire fix. Popcorn?"
"Don't mind if I do," she crunched a few kernels before looking over at me with a mix of confusion and affection, "I love you, Sam. I don't understand you. But I love you."
I patted her head. "I know."
I restarted the movie. We cuddled and munched our way through the popcorn while watching. It was nice to have someone with me for a change.
When it was over, I turned to Heather. She looked more sober. "So… want to tell me what you did earlier tonight?"
"Yes… no... ugh, the whisky wore off and now I'm nervous…"
"Start with the basics. Who was the lucky guy?"
"Awww, he's one of the nice guys at work. At least you didn't boink some jackass. A little old for you though, isn't he nearly thirty?"
"Maybe, he's twenty-eight. But you know what?" she half-smiled, "I think I like 'em a little older. He, uh, knew what he was doing a lot better than the high school guys."
"So he was good to you?"
"Oooh, yeah," she smiled again but then flinched with guilt.
"It's okay, Love, I'm glad. And someday I'd even like to hear about it, but maybe right now we could…" I leaned closer to press my lips to her cheek and toyed with a damp bit of her hair.
"Seriously? You want to be with me right now, after all this?"
When I nodded, she kissed me but her lips were still timid, cautious.
"Yeah, Peaches, I feel very close to you right now. And, to be honest, the whole thing is sexy as hell. It's the middle of the night, you showed up here soaking wet and… and I can still smell him on you. On your skin. Your breath too. It's turning me on more than a little."
The last part came out softly as I almost touched my nose to her shoulder and inhaled slowly, trying not to sound like an animal as I sniffed her.
"Heather honey, where did he cum?" I whispered my question simply. Now wasn't the time to mince words.
"In my mouth," she answered, kissing me again, teasing my lips with her tongue now. I could taste his cum.
"And?" I had trouble picturing any man letting Heather get away after only one orgasm. I was right.
"On my back and my... my butt," she said softly.
"Inside or out?"
"Oh, uh, outside. On it."
"Hmmm, so… did you have, you know, actual sex tonight?"
"No, I wasn't ready for that yet. Why?"
"Because I'd like to do something... something a little raunchy. Remember our one-to-ten pervert scale? I'd say this is a 'six.' You okay with that tonight?"
She nodded, even smiled a little. The late hour, the guilt over what she'd done, and the liquor all made her look especially willing. Compliant. Submissive even. I probably could have taken serious advantage of her that night, done something truly perverted that she would have regretted later.
But I couldn't do that to Heather. Never to Heather. Love is a funny thing.
Instead, I gently turned the beautiful young teen so that her back was facing me and then helped her pull her t-shirt over her head.
What I saw made me stare. Hero's cum crisscrossed her smooth, lightly tanned skin in a cloudy film of giant streaks. There was a lot of it. If I'd just looked at her back, I would have guessed two men did it. Maybe even three. Hero either hadn't had sex for awhile or he had been really, really excited. Given Heather's physical gifts, the second one was actually more likely.
She looked at me nervously over her bare shoulder, "What about Danny, Sam? What if he comes down?"
Oh yeah, him. "Best case scenario? Danny thinks it's great and he asks to join in on our fun. We'll just tell him 'no' and send him back upstairs to bed. Worst case? He freaks out, packs his shit, and leaves."
Heather's mouth twisted into a half-smile. "Sam, ummm, not to be a bitch, but I think you have your descriptions of those scenarios backwards."
We shared a mean laugh. Before it was over, I was already leaning closer to Heather's back with saliva flooding my mouth in anticipation of what I was about to do. I dug my fingernails into my palms and let a breath out through pursed lips. I was eager, too eager, for this.
I lapped at the cum on Heather's back.
She gasped and went rigid, surprised.
I had never told Heather about this. Why would I? We were two women. There was no one to provide the cum I adored licking off a woman's skin. No one to spray it on her warm soft flesh for me or, even better, to bury it somewhere dark and hot and tight for me to suck it from.
I have a long list of fetishes and this is probably my most powerful one, the one I enjoy the most, the crude, nasty, secret thing I think about when I'm masturbating. It had been years since I had licked cum off another woman.
Here's the odd part… I'd never actually been in a threesome. So… how?
With an beautiful and understanding geisha named Yumi. She'd come to the States for college. She "worked" her way through school and we shared a bed sometimes after her regular clients. She was the one who'd introduced me to this twisted little craving of mine. She even started picking the last man of her night carefully, saving the one she knew tasted best for last. She would see him and then she would come to me.
Seriously, I told you I was kinky.
At Heather's back, my licking became lapping. Then my lapping became laving. Heather's skin had always been sweet. I had fallen in love with her soft, candy-like scent from the first time we danced at an office party. Now, with a light frosting of Hero's semen, it was sweet and salty and creamy. Like a dessert made just for me.
I was panting through my nose and taking long hungry, broad strokes at her back with my tongue, even pulling her flesh into my mouth to suck and nip at it. I took my time, savoring, and long minutes went by. I took too much time for my impatient teen lover.
"Jesus, Sam," she whispered over her shoulder, "you're driving me crazy with this. Please finish. I need your mouth on me."
But the old hunger I had almost forgotten had its grip on me. I wasn't ready to stop. I sank my teeth into her back and gnawed a little warning. I'd finish when I was ready.
"Owww, okay sorry," she apologized softly.
"S'ok." I went back to licking.
In a few minutes more, her back was spotless. I patted my saliva off her skin with the fleece blanket and then helped her lay back on the couch.
Heather was already spreading her legs for me eagerly, draping one knee up over the back of the couch to splay herself widely.
"So that turned you on too, huh Peaches?"
She nodded eagerly and her fingers slid down between her legs. Her entire mound was baby smooth as always. She'd been shaving since puberty and was diligent about it. Her puffy little lips formed one neat vertical line, like a doll. It was pretty and perfect for licking.
"Please, Sam?" her hips hunched up off the cushion desperately. She spread herself and the delicate, pinker folds inside were shiny and swollen with need. I couldn't tease her. It would be too cruel.
I got close enough for her to feel my breath on her bald little sex. She was muskier than usual. She'd definitely been wet when she and Hero had their fun and those juices had gone stale since. I didn't mind. In fact, in some ways I preferred her like this. Her scent was more intense and her flavor would be too.
I flicked my tongue out, gently rolling over the hard little nub she'd bared completely, offering it up to me, eager for the release an orgasm would bring. Her tiny tender bud stood out naked and vulnerable. She shuddered as I kept rolling my tongue back and forth over it.
"Ooooh," she groaned her gratefulness, pulling her own lips open wider, stretching them until the soft folds beneath her fingers turned white. I flicked at her clit again and again, lapping up and down each of its sides. The little cooing sounds she made with each lick were adorable.
"Wait Sam?", she pulled her legs up and bent her knees all the way to the outsides of her enormous round breasts. It hitched her hips up higher.
"Go lower," she whispered as I licked slowly and steadily, trying to make her pleasure last. I wanted her to cum, but a rushed orgasm is almost always a bad one.
I traced my way down Heather's lips to her tiny entrance and whirled around it. A few warm, dewdrops had gathered there at her opening. She was muskiest there and it made me salivate. I had to swallow a mouthful of my own drool.
"Lower Sam?" Heather whispered again, softer this time.
Really? This was interesting. I slid the tip of my tongue down to the tiny bit of delicate skin that separated her two openings. I flicked back and forth across it, teasing her, making her ask me for what she actually wanted if she did, in fact, want it. She fidgeted slightly. Amazing, she actually did want me to…
"Sam? Would you… a little…" my gorgeous girl finally mewled.
She never got the word "lower" out. I pressed my tongue at her tiny pucker and she gasped and shivered.
"Yessssss…" Heather whimpered. One of her hands flew down to her mound and she began to jill herself in steady circles. Her other hand came down to twist into my hair.
I looked up her flat belly and between her giant jutting breasts to see the expression on her face. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were narrow blue slits. She nodded weakly.
Heather must have learned something new with Hero. Obviously, he'd rimmed her. More importantly, he'd rimmed her and she liked it. How on earth did he get to that on their first night?
Heather lifted her head up to watch as I lapped at her little rose. I let a smile creep into my eyes for her to see. This was fun for me too and I wanted her to know it. I would gladly lick every inch of Heather's body and would have done this before if I thought she would have liked it. Having her ask me to lick her there was even hotter.
Heather's body started quivering. I tongued her little star, circling and prodding gently, as her fingers made circles over her button which had swollen beyond proportion.
"Uuuuh," she shuddered as she worked herself higher and higher.
She'd already been excited from the foreplay of me licking at her back. And the night had probably been a nervous rollercoaster for her, showing up like this to admit sleeping with Hero. That stress, that tension, was fueling her now. I could tell.
I watched as the sleek muscles of her belly and legs flexed and her oversized breasts swayed gently. At last, her eyes squeezed shut completely and her mouth fell open to her chest but nothing came out. Her hips jerked up off the couch and I had to follow quickly to keep my tongue on her.
I had a perfect view up her spectacular little body to watched my pretty girl cum.
I think Heather looks her best when she's cumming. There's an intensity to it that makes my heart ache. My little blonde bunny forgets about everything else. There's no hesitation. No shame. No embarrassment. Just pleasure. Just joy. A simple, pure, untarnished glee that can't be faked.