Portmanteau: More Than a Feeling

Kaylin's knees buckled with the sensation. She grasped Mary Margaret's arm, moving it up and down slightly. Mary Margaret took the initiative to add a third finger and the tip of her thumb and stretch the walls of Kaylin's pussy until she groaned with pleasure, and the redhead continued to work her as her clit swelled and her wetness flowed.

"Let me taste it," Kaylin whispered.

Mary Margaret complied, taking her glistening fingers from within Kaylin and holding them to her face. Kaylin licked her essence off Mary Margaret's fingers, pulling the redhead close to do the same. As they tongue-bathed Mary Margaret's fingers, the two met in a deep kiss.

Kaylin placed her hands on Mary Margaret's large breasts, kneading them lightly, then planted her mouth over Mary Margaret's left breast and circled her nipple. Immediately, Kaylin realized these were the softest breasts she had ever encountered. Like pillows filled with down, these breasts practically melted in her mouth.

Grabbing a handful of Kaylin's thong, Mary Margaret ripped it free, revealing Kaylin's perfectly shaven pussy shimmering with moisture. Kaylin's pussy lips were pronounced, and the edges were dark purple in darkness, almost black. Set against her soft white skin, the dark edges of her labia perfectly outlined the entry to her vagina.

Mary Margaret backed up then, sat on the couch with her legs open, and began the masturbate herself while looking at Kaylin's clean pussy.

Kaylin approached and bent down to taste the redhead's sweetness again when Mary Margaret pulled her in by the arm. Kaylin found herself across Mary Margaret's lap, face down on the couch with her hairless slit over the thick red-haired pussy and her ass positioned up in the air.

She was positioned like a misbehaving child on an angry mom's lap, and she wondered if Mary Margaret planned to spank her. She tightened up, expecting the sting of a slap.

"Relax," Mary Margaret whispered, then using her right hand, massaged Kaylin's pussy from behind while her left hand held her ass cheeks open for access. Kaylin reacted to the awkward pussy massage by bucking her ass up and down.

Mary Margaret intensified as she put her finger in her mouth, wet it, placed it on the edge of Kaylin's tight ring and drew lazy circles around her starfish.

Working both hands at once, Mary Margaret was driving Kaylin into a frenzy, evident by the gush of wetness from deep within her. Kaylin looked back, biting her lip while trying to get a better view when Mary Margaret pushed her finger through the tight ring of Kaylin's ass, finding the smoothness beyond the barrier. Kaylin's mouth opened, letting a gasp escape.

"Oh, that feels so...strange," Kaylin whispered.

"You've never...?"

Kaylin shook her head no, unable to verbalize that Mary Margaret was entering virgin territory. With a slightly sadistic smile, Mary Margaret kept at it, adding in a second finger, bringing a little pain to add to the pleasure.

"If I had a strap-on, I would fuck your sweet little ass," the redhead stated.

The thought of Mary Margaret with a large plastic strap-on excited Kaylin. She imagined the aggressive redhead driving the molded plastic phallus into her pussy and ass.

"Next time," Mary Margaret said as she kneaded at Kaylin's ass.

Praying there would be a next time, Kaylin's muscles started to spasm slightly. She knew the cumming sensation and tried to fight it off. Pushing with her inner muscles, she tried to expel Mary Margaret's fingers.

"Don't make me cum yet," she pleaded, "I want to cum with you."

Knowing she could send Kaylin over the orgasm line with a little more pressure, Mary Margaret complied and withdrew her fingers but kept kneading at the younger girl's pussy with her open hand.

Slowly, Kaylin crept away from Mary Margaret to the opposite end of the couch. Each woman lay on their back with open legs facing the other. Mary Margaret massaged her own clit, then slid her hand down into her moist opening until she found her wanting G-spot. On the opposite end of the couch, Kaylin waited until the near orgasm subsided, then did the same.

"So, how does it feel to fuck your high school crush?" Mary Margaret taunted.

"I'll tell you after she makes me cum," Kaylin replied.

"Trib me," The sexy redhead both demanded and asked nicely. "Let me feel your clit on mine."

Kaylin smiled at the idea. She crawled over to Mary Margaret until she was above her, then straddled atop her allowing her bare pussy to touch Mary Margaret's pussy. Separating her lips to reveal her swollen inner self, she pushed back the hood of skin that was trying to hide her clit. The redhead did the same until her clit was revealed in a wet field of flesh.

Mary Margaret could not remember the last time she was at the bottom of a tribbing session. She was always on top, commanding the action, like a man fucking a woman, but this girl was fucking her, and she liked it.

Kaylin then pressed her pussy to Mary Margaret's and slid up and down her wet fur allowing their clits to rub with each pass.

But with Kaylin on top gently riding her, it felt natural and relaxed, and best of all, she could look up at the sexy woman atop her wearing the multimillion-dollar necklace that brought them together.

Mary Margaret whispered, "How did I miss spotting you back at St. Magnus?"

Kaylin didn't answer and kept sliding her clits over the redhead, then sat back to take in the view of Mary Margaret's large tits.

Taking four fingers, Kaylin gently prodded at Mary Margaret's pussy, pushing it open. Wet and lubed from the intensity of their lovemaking, the fingertips went in quickly, disappearing through her red forest and inside her vagina.

Mary Margaret grunted with a bit of pain as Kaylin gently massaged her pussy from the inside. It was unexpected, but the sensation was more than pleasurable.

"Shhhh," whispered Kaylin, bringing her face to Mary Margaret's ear. "Relax. Let me in. Let me all the way in."

Not used to taking commands, Mary Margaret's first thought was to reverse the situation. But Kaylin held firm and pushed her hand harder. Now only her thumb was outside the redhead's pussy.

Kaylin's four fingers went deeper into Mary Margaret's slit, causing her to moan and squirm.

"Shhh," Kaylin whispered again into her crush's ear.

They put their lips together in a kiss as Mary Margaret opened her legs wide, then even wider, allowing Kaylin to slide her fingers in deep, then deeper, but still, her thumb remained out.

"I'm putting the whole hand in. Are you ready for that?"

Mary Margaret could hardly speak from the overwhelming sensation of pressure but brought her hand down and curled Kaylin's thumb so it could join the other fingers in her widened pussy. She was ready.

Kaylin's hands were small, but her fist was still a challenge for Mary Margaret, and she let yet another groan as it slid inside her, causing air to escape with a gentle queef.

Her extremities went numb, her hand clenched tight on Kaylin's wrist, and her right hand groped wildly for something to grab, finally finding Kaylin's thigh.

"Oh, it feels so good. So good," the redhead moaned.

Kaylin gently moved her fisted hand in and out, slowly causing Mary Margaret to flail.

"Do you feel it?" Kaylin asked, already knowing the answer.

Mary Margret nodded between breaths and then arched her back from the probing pushing against Kaylin's fist.

"Don't you try to push me out,' Kaylin scolded.

"I'll behave," Mary Margret said in a submissive voice, then squirmed with pleasure, unable to catch her breath. Her legs were now wide open, and even though untouched, her tight pink asshole began to gape.

"It hurts, but that's so good," the redhead moaned.

"You want me to stop?" Kaylin offered.

"No," she said between groans. "I like it; I really like it. I feel so full. So full."

If she had anything more to add, it was lost in the swelling orgasm that was starting to form in the walls of her pussy all around Kaylin's fist.

The redhead's muscles went rigid, and Kaylin could feel her hand trapped as the red-haired pussy lips sealed around Kaylin's wrist in a tight grip. Mary Margret's orgasm hit first and then again and again. It was a series of waves so intense she began to develop tunnel vision as if she might pass out.

Kaylin could feel her lover's reaction via her enclosed fist. A wash of Mary Margaret's fluids moved over her hand and wrist, dripping onto the couch. The sensation of bringing her crush to multiple orgasms was too much; she went stiff as her pussy pulsated in a mutual and matching orgasm created by the passionate connection alone.

All that could be heard after the mutual moaning subsided was the heavy breathing of both women. The panting slowed, their breath returned, and then slowly, with care, Kaylin removed her hand from Mary Margaret's confines. They remained wrapped in the other's arms, exchanging kisses. Unable to move, they held tight until they both drifted to sleep.

Hours later, Kaylin woke to find herself still naked on the couch, covered by a blanket. Still basking in the post-orgasmic glow, she turned to see Mary Margaret dressed and wearing a Red Sox sweatshirt. Feeling around her neck, she could see the Red Scarlett was gone.

"I borrowed this sweatshirt from the back."

"You're leaving?" Kaylin asked.

"People to see, places to go," Mary Margaret offered in a non-comital way.

"Will I see you again?" Kaylin asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"My work tends to keep me on the move, and I'm not sure it's the best thing to stay in one place very long," Mary Margaret offered coldly.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I get it. Yeah, of course," Kaylin said with feigned support.

Mary Margaret gave Kaylin a deep kiss, something far better than a one-night stand peck and run. Kaylin closed her eyes to enjoy it.

Without words, Mary Margaret unlocked the door and walked up the stairs to the street level. Kaylin could see her legs as the redhead no one was looking for walked away and vanished into the morning foot traffic on Newbury Street.

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Four weeks later, the salon was full; Kaylin was hard at work alongside the other scissor sisters when the shop owner, Hannah, came in with a fabulous redhead wearing a very sharp and expensive Tahari suit that revealed nothing yet revealed everything.

"Scissor sisters, an announcement! Ladies. Please. This is Isabella McLaren, the new owner of Hannah and her Scissor Sisters! That's right bitches, I am off to Provincetown!"

The scissor sisters cheered for Hannah, giving him hugs, but Kaylin walked up to Mary Margaret and gave her a polite handshake.

"Ms. McLaren, do you know much about the salon business?"

"And you are?" Mary Margaret asked, looking at her like a stranger.

"Oh, sorry. Kaylin Leary, one of your employees."

"Nice to meet you, Kaylin. Would you mind showing me around? Let's start in the back," she said, walking past with a faux bitchy attitude.

Kaylin entered the back room, unsure what game Mary Margaret was playing, only to be met with a deep embrace and an enthusiastic kiss from her former hostage taker, sexual conquest, and now boss.

Kaylin pulled back and looked at Mary Margaret with a smile.

"I don't know shit about running a business, so this one is yours if you want it," Mary Margaret said, "and one more thing, I don't know shit about relationships, so this one is also yours if you can figure out how to make this work."

Kaylin smiled and moved in for a close embrace and another passionate kiss.

"I'll make it work; we'll make it work."

Diamonds are Forever

Diamonds are forever

Sparkling 'round my little finger

Unlike men, the diamonds linger

Men are mere mortals who

Are not worth going to your grave for

Diamonds Are Forever lyrics © Emi Unart Catalog Inc.

__________________________________________________

SISTER GOLDEN HAIR

Grace exited the bathroom carrying her shower kit and tiptoed quickly through the empty hallway to her small room. Once inside, she shut the door and pulled the lone desk chair to the door, wedging it tight so no one could enter.

Outside, the afternoon sun filtered through the window, so she quickly drew the shades, careful not to be seen.

The room was sparse, with a wardrobe, a twin bed, a desk, a chair, and little else. Above her bed was a framed picture of Jesus.

Carefully she reached under her mattress and pulled out a glossy magazine with the bold title of Cunt Hunter, featuring a vintage photo of a woman reeling back in ecstasy as a hairy mustachioed man plants his penis deep inside her very hairy vagina. The magazine seemed to be from the 70s, but that was hardly a concern for her.

Sitting on the bed, she opened her robe slightly, then held the magazine with one hand and slid her other hand down her flat stomach until it met the curls of her thick, strawberry blond, pubic hair.

Like the woman in the magazine, Grace's pussy was a tangle of hair, unkempt and wild. The darkness made the sweet pinkness of her inner folds more evident as she ran her fingers up and down her slit finding her clit and circling it while studying the crude and dated porn magazine.

She continued to caress herself, turning page after page, examining the increasingly intense stages of awkward sexual fucking. The photo story turned interesting when a second woman entered the adventure. The worn nature of the magazine hinted that these were the pages Grace loved best as she increased her self-stimulation. Plunging several fingers into her virgin clutch, she became lost in her rising orgasm.

A sudden knocking on the door put an abrupt end to the pleasure, and Grace sat up in fear. She quickly placed the magazine under the mattress, quietly moved the chair, and opened the door to find a nun, Sister Teresa, waiting patiently.

"Sister Grace, Mother Superior has asked that you come to the school and help the students. She's worried about some of the troublemakers."

"Of course, Sister. I just showered, so allow me to dress, and I'll be there soon."

"She asked that you patrol the old dormitory and the library. I'm going to be locking classrooms. It's the usual suspects you should be on the lookout for." With that, Sister Teresa left.

Sister Grace looked around her tiny room and at the open doors of the lone wardrobe in the corner. Inside hung her black habit and on a shelf the few civilian clothes that remained from when she joined the order six years ago.

Dropping her robe, she looked at the painting of Jesus as she dressed and moved the wardrobe door so he could not see her nude body.

She held up her old Red Sox sweatshirt, remembering her days at Fenway. However, the Holy Cross congregation did not approve of such frivolous activities. She finished dressing and went outside to meet the day.

It was the day of the Senior Picnic, an annual ritual at St. Magnus, when classes were canceled, and the students gathered on the campus grounds for food and games. Fun for the students but a high-alert moment for the school staff and the nuns who help run the place. Young Catholics have a way of seeking out venial sins.

Sister Grace removed her robe, leaving her naked. Her skin was milky white, having never seen the sun since she entered the order six years ago at eighteen. She was average in height and thin, with a flat stomach and exceptionally large breasts, which would have turned heads in any outfit other than a nun's habit.

Without her nun's habit, she looked like a California beach girl sans tan but with beautiful, healthy blond hair. Relegated to never wearing shorts, let alone a bathing suit, her pubic hair was an unkempt, wild tangle with a light, happy trail leading to her navel and curls inside her thighs. Looking at her bedraggled pussy, one might think it was 1974 all over again down there, but that was 40 years ago.

Sister Grace closed her eyes to enjoy the moment of freedom with herself and her body. Looking in the mirror, she admired herself, then went to the wardrobe and dressed. First, a no-frills bra that over-supported her large breasts pressing them tight against her body. The order frowned upon showing any shape, so the bras were industrial and tight, and the underwear bulky.

Slipping on the robes and head covering, she finished the outfit off with the wimple that surrounded her face in white and the veil of black and white that let anyone around know this woman was a nun.

Despite being inside Boston city limits, the campus of St. Magnus was large and sprawling, with several buildings, playing fields, a cathedral, and a convent. The students, girls in plaid dresses and boys wearing jackets and ties, were participating in games or grabbing lunch and finding a place to sit and enjoy the beautiful spring day. Teachers, administrators, and several of the nuns were either taking part or keeping a watchful eye out for mischief.

Sister Grace walked toward the old dorm, pausing to look at the tall buildings of downtown Boston that were only a few blocks away. Her eyes could not avoid seeing the ornate brick and iron fence surrounding the campus. While this was a venerated learning institution to most, it was a prison to Sister Grace.

Entering St. Hildegard Hall, she paused to look at a large painting of animals sitting on a wooded hillside. Entitled the Peaceable Kingdom, the Hicks painting had been donated by a billionaire alumnus. Now, it sat unappreciated in the hallway of a convent dormitory that had been closed for several years. Sister Grace felt sad that the beautiful painting remained unappreciated in the dusty building that no one had ever lived in or visited.

Her gaze on the painting was interrupted by the whispers of voices coming from down the hallway. She thought, whomever it was better have a good reason for being here, and crept toward the sound.

The voices came from the last room along the hall, a bedroom similar to hers. The door was slightly ajar as she approached. Putting her bets on which entitled kid was in the room, she stood back in the shadows to get a look.

From her perspective, she could see a girl sitting on the bed, making out with a young man. While their faces were obstructed, the girl's flaming red hair let Sister Grace know precisely who this was—Mary Margaret McCardle, a student in her art class better known as the campus rebel.

The two students were engaged in a hot make-out session, but since kissing is only a venial sin, nothing that requires penance, she decided to sit back and allow them this tender moment.

She could monitor them from the shadows and stop them before they crossed from a venial sin to a mortal one.

Inside the room, Mary Margaret and Jimmy Demarco were lost in deep kisses and bodily caresses. Jimmy struggled to remove his jacket while Mary Margaret's one hand massaged his thigh ever so close to what was now a raging erection.

"You promised me a blow job," he whispered between kisses.

"It's my nineteenth birthday tomorrow," she replied, "You go down on me, then I'll blow you."

Jimmy's 19th birthday was three weeks prior, and Mary Margaret gifted him with a hand job backstage of the auditorium. He relished that moment every morning and afternoon when he masturbated to the memory.

But now he was alone with Mary Margaret, promising to take this to the next level. He wanted a blow job, he needed a blowjob, but she wanted him to go down on her, and that alone would be mental masturbation material for him for years to come.

The girl scooched back on the bed and lifted her plaid dress, revealing no underwear and a red bush that rivaled the fiery mane on her head. Well-groomed, her red-haired clad vagina was moist and wanting. Jimmy returned to kissing as Mary Margaret guided his hand down to her pussy. She then guided his fingers up and down her moistened slit. She rocked forward onto his fingers, enjoying their clumsy welcome invasion.