Taking In Strays

Authors Note: This is a Lesbian romance story. There is adultery in the story, so if you're the type that's sensitive to such things. You might want to move along.

This story is a slow burn type of romance. There is a steamy sex scene, but it doesn't come quickly. I hope the tale pays off for the reader when it does happen.

I love getting feedback from readers, whether it's in the form of comments or through email. So feel free to let me know what you think. Also, if you finish the story, please give it the rating you think it deserves.

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I remember the day Jax Taylor walked into my life with intimate detail. It was Friday, May the 3rd of 2019, and Darren and I had plans to attend an early Cinco de Mayo celebration with friends that night. It was a bright and sunny morning, warm even for that time of year, and the sky was a deep blue faintly whitewashed with a high smattering of wispy white clouds.

I had gotten my husband Darren off to the office early that morning. As an architect, he would often travel to meet with potential customers and view likely build sites to get a better feel for the buildings he would design to go there. The travel wouldn't end once a deal was signed, and construction had begun. There were always minor emergencies and client handholding type deals that often required short notice trips with a two or three-day turnaround.

Altogether, it wasn't uncommon for Darren to be on the road for at least two weeks out of the month. I had things to occupy my time, though, so I didn't mind. We'd never had the type of relationship where we clung to one another. For us, it seemed to be more about comfort and reliability. We knew what to expect of each other without taking things for granted. Instead of intense passion and romance, our marriage seemed to be centered around meeting each other's needs with as little fuss as possible.

And up until that point, I was okay with that. I gave Darren space to do his job and enjoy the occasional round of golf when he was home. In turn, he didn't question my charitable work or when I decided to bring a stray home.

That was his term for them anyway. It had started with my older sister Carolyn who'd been going through a rather nasty divorce. She needed a place to stay during her separation and while she got back on her feet. The house Darren and I purchased together after marrying had a large in-law suite that rested over a semi-detached four-car garage. Only a long breezeway connected it to the main house. It had been sitting empty for close to a year when I asked Carolyn, with Darren's blessing, to stay there until she had her ship righted.

It was almost two years later when she moved out into a condominium of her own. I hadn't wanted her to leave but understood the need she felt to move on with her life. Having Carolyn living there had been beneficial to us both. We had drifted apart in recent years, and the reunion allowed us the chance to reconnect.

The suite above the garage didn't stay vacant for long. Stray number two came along later that summer in the form of an eighteen-year-old cousin who would be attending Georgia Tech in Atlanta. With our house being just a twenty-minute drive on the interstate from Grace's campus, my aunt was very grateful to have her living with us instead of in downtown Atlanta.

Grace was with us for four years, and it was during that time that I first noticed she never had boys over to visit. A steady flow of young college co-eds of varying ages, races, and shapes made their way up and down the steps to the suite above the garage, but no boys.

It wasn't until early in Grace's junior year that she admitted the obvious to me one night as we enjoyed a glass of wine out by the pool. I never out and out asked her if she was gay, but as our conversation progressed and the wine flowed, Grace opened up. She told me that she'd known since her early teen years that she was attracted to other girls. Grace said by the time she was sixteen; she was reasonably sure she was exclusively lesbian and that her college life had only confirmed that.

We became very close over her last two years with us. She came to look at me as more of the big sister she had never had than an older cousin. As a result, when she wasn't doing schoolwork or entertaining a date, we were often together with her filling my ears with ribald tales of her lesbian exploits.

To that point, sex had never been a driving force in my life. I was raised in a very conservative household and attended Catholic school throughout my education. I was seventeen before my mom finally confronted me at the breakfast table one morning and asked about the fact I hadn't approached them about the possibility of dating.

The truth was, I had little to no interest in the subject. There had been plenty of interest from the boys I'd grown up around, and all of my high school girlfriends were actively dating. To the boys who wanted my company and as far as my friends knew, it was my strict parents that were keeping me from partaking in the high school ritual.

It wasn't that I secreted a desire to become a spinster with a house full of cats. I assumed at some point that passion would ignite in me, and I didn't see sense in trying to force things until it did.

My mother forced my hand, finally getting me to agree to a series of dates in my senior year of high school. I never dated the same boy more than twice because I'd been told that by the third date, certain things were expected of a girl. The type of things I wanted to avoid until I met someone I felt drawn to. It wasn't that I was a prude or asexual; I wasn't. But none of the boys I dated excited me the way I heard my friends mention in their exploits. There were certain things I was comfortable doing despite not feeling the level of attraction I wanted. I gave more than a few handjobs and one ill-fated blow job but never went any further. The blow job was the last I ever gave because the over-aggressive jerk I honored with it decided to come in my mouth without warning. That was after he'd repeatedly tried to ram his dick down my throat in some misguided attempt at male dominance.

In college, I took part in a series of short to mid-length relationships, the longest-lasting maybe six-months. It was during one of those in my sophomore year that I had sex for the first time. After the initial pain and discomfort had passed, it was a pleasant experience but not the earth-shattering and world-changing event that I'd always heard about from friends. There were others after him, with me never allowing any particular one relationship to develop to the point it became too involved. The guy I was with either drifted away of his own accord, or I ended things myself.

The fact I was dating kept my parents off my back. Of course, they wanted me to eventually marry and settle down with the hope I would provide them with a grandchild or two. But they were content to wait, as long as things seemed to be progressing for me at a healthy pace. The front I was putting on seemed to reassure them that all was well, but I was beginning to have doubts that the man I was looking for was out there.

After graduating from college, I went to work at a mid-sized law firm as a paralegal. My father had gotten me the interview, I believe, in the hopes that I would find a lawyer to marry. Though the interest seemed to be there from several lawyers, both of the married and single variety, I turned down their advances. The interested parties were handsome enough, but I'd always found the old adage of not shitting where one eats to be sage advice. Why should I have to end up changing jobs after a relationship with someone I worked with ended?

It wasn't until I was twenty-four and a girlfriend dragged me to a singles mixer for young professionals that I met Darren. He was six years older than me and already a burgeoning success in his field. All of that combined with the fact he was tall and good looking made him a target of sufficient interest from most of the females present.

When we were introduced, I found him to be warm and intelligent. He was a good conversationalist who seemed as genuinely interested in listening to what I had to say as he did in his half of the conversation. In the end, we exchanged numbers, and I put him out of my mind. There were at least half a dozen women there that I thought more beautiful than myself, including a couple of doctors and a lawyer. I assumed that in the end, if he held an interest in anyone there, it would be one of them.

So, a week later, when I received a call from him asking me out, I was as surprised as anyone. We began to date after that, and I found for the first time in my life, I wasn't on edge and in a hurry to move on to someone else. Darren was fun, and we shared some similar interests. More importantly, he wasn't clingy or demanding. He liked to have the space to do his own thing at times and respected my desire to have my own.

We'd been together almost a year when Darren proposed to me. It wasn't a total surprise to me that it happened. I had seen things headed that way, and although I was somewhat ambivalent about the thought of it, I could also see the positives involved in giving up the single life. I had developed a strong affection for Darren though I was unsure in my own mind whether it actually rose to the level of love. Still, he was the perfect boyfriend for me. Kind, caring, smart, good looking, and not at all demanding. And like me, sex was not a driving force in Darren's life. We made love, perhaps once a week, give or take a day or so. Sex with Darren was nice. He was gentle and took great care in foreplay to make sure that I became aroused enough to enjoy the act. Something that a large portion of the men I'd dated had failed to do.

So even though I didn't see him as the great love of my life, there were far too many checks in the advantages column to turn down his offer. I was afraid I might go my entire life and not find someone as well suited to marry as Darren.

Despite how comfortable and settled, I'd become in my life. I have to admit; it was my interest in Grace's stories and lifestyle that were perhaps the first hints that there was indeed something missing in my life. I'd been married for nearly five years at the time and had given up on thoughts of there being any more to what life had to offer. Grace's experiences and the passion she spoke of began to stoke a fire in me that I had thought long gone out. For the first time in a long time, I began to wonder if there wasn't something bigger out there for me.

One story, in particular, stuck with me after Grace related it to me as we sat down by the pool late one summer evening. The summer sun was just starting to get low on the horizon, leaving a pronounced orange glow in the sky.

"I seduced this extremely hot straight milf last night," Grace said bluntly, which was nothing unusual for my cousin. She and tact had never been great friends.

My attention had begun to wane at that point, the wine and serenity of the sunset lulling me into a fugue state. But I became instantly alert at Grace's boastful words.

I turned towards her waiting for Grace to go on. She didn't disappoint me.

"The girls and I went to the club last night. We didn't get there until about ten, and the place was pretty packed. I always love that because it significantly increases my odds of finding just the right new piece of tail."

I rolled my eyes at her choice of words. I'd often thought how Grace would end up feeling right at home in a men's locker room.

"So, I notice this group of straight women sitting at a table over in the corner farthest from the bar."

"Wait," I said, breaking in, "How could you tell they were straight?"

Grace laughed as if my question was silly, causing me to blush.

"The way they were dressed for one thing. They had that country club chic look going on. Secondly, the way they never left the table alone operating solely on the buddy system. Most of them that come in there are curious about what it would be like to be with a woman. So they're scared of being cornered by some seductive dyke they're attracted to."

"Okay," I said with a shrug, "I guess I can see that."

"And then there's the drinks they order. White wine, always and without fail, and no more than two glasses no matter how long they're at the club. It's like they know if they get the slightest bit drunk, they're going to end up in some lesbian's bed."

"Okay, okay," I exclaimed sarcastically, "I get it already. Us lame assed straight girls are just one drink away from acting on our longheld fantasies of being seduced by some hot lesbian."

"Well, of course, you are," Grace replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I couldn't help but laugh at her warped view of the world; God loves her.

"The last sure sign, and their most important moment of weakness, is the group dance. They do this little thing where three or four of them huddle together and dance. It's like they have this idea that their little huddle is impenetrable to lesbian intrusion. Let me tell you cuz, that isn't the case."

"Duly noted," I said with a laugh.

"By then, I'd already spotted the woman among their group I wanted to bring home for the night. She had long blonde hair, was tall, and the perfect mix of lithe with just the right amount of curves. She reminded me, a lot of my seventh-grade math teacher Mrs. Grayson. I'm still convinced that my having a wet pussy and hard clit that entire semester is what led to me getting a C in her class.

I did a facepalm at her admission, the sudden image of a barely post-pubescent Grace squeezing her thighs together while learning pre-algebra entered my mind.

"So, they're out there dancing in their protective huddle as I made my way out onto the dancefloor. I unbuttoned the top two buttons on my vest to make sure the twins are very noticeable and then position myself just outside their little dance cadre. I made sure to stay perfectly within view of her line of sight the entire time we're dancing"

Grace poured herself another glass of wine before going on.

"There I was dancing as seductively as possible with my eyes locked on her the entire time, and sure enough, we finally make eye contact. I gave her my seductive smile, okay, it's really more of a smirk than anything, but it does the trick."

"And?" I asked.

"She gives me this shy, cautious smile in return, and then her eyes dipped down to my chest. That was it; I knew she was interested regardless of her friends being there."

"From one look?" I asked incredulously.

"Hey," Grace said as if the answer was obvious, "To an apex predator such as myself? Of course."

I just shook my head at her bombastic response.

"The next song I made sure to ease around behind her and into her blind spot. I'm dancing close to her, and she can almost seem to sense my presence. I can see her head moving side to side with her neck craning around her friends. I can tell that she's looking for me."

"Damn," I said, leaning forward into my chair. Grace's stories always left me feeling aroused slightly, and this one was doubly doing so despite her sometimes comedic delivery.

"Exactly," Grace said with a mischievous grin. "So, I slid up behind her and placed my hands on her hips, causing her to turn quickly."

"What did she do?" I asked, feeling myself become a bit breathless in anticipation of hearing the outcome.

"She sees me, and I swear her pretty blue eyes go dark. My hands are still on her hips, and we're swaying in rhythm. I don't say a word to her. I just give her my hungry smile, which means I want to eat her all night long. Her face and chest flushed, and I could just make out her nipples poking out through her dress."

"Are you sure this girl was straight?" I asked with evident skepticism in my voice.

"Yes, and I can prove it, but I'll tell you how when I'm through with my story. Let's see, where was I? Oh, yeah, when her friends went back to their booth, she stayed out on the dancefloor with me. We danced a couple more songs with me, grinding against her and allowing my hands to take more and more liberties."

"And she still isn't resisting?" I asked.

Grace shook her head and said, "No, if anything, she's starting to flirt back and becoming more receptive to my advances. But finally, she leans into me and announces that she has to go to the bathroom."

"Mood killer," I said.

"You think?" Grace replied, giving me that predatory grin of hers. "I know the manager of the club well. The line to the lady's room can be unbelievably long on a busy night. Since I'm there most nights, Stacy, that's the manager, gave me a key to the employee's bathroom. So that's where I took Mrs. Grayson."

"Wait," I asked, "she wasn't really your teacher was she?"

Grace laughed, "No, Mrs. Grayson has to be in her fifties by now. But that's how I was thinking of her because I still didn't know her name."

"So, I tell her I can help her avoid the long line of the women's room. What sane woman in a bar isn't going to fall for that? She follows me to the back room where I unlock the employee restroom and let us both in making sure to lock it behind us."

"Grace," I pleaded, "please tell me you didn't seduce this poor lady in a dirty bathroom?"

A rare sheepish grin came to my cousin's face telling me that was what she did precisely.

"The bathroom was clean," she said almost defensively before adding, "at least it was before I made Mrs. Grayson squirt all over the floor."

"Oh, God," I said, my hand covering my mouth in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Grace said boastfully, "she said that over and over."

When we had both finished laughing, Grace said, "She goes in the potty to tinkle, but when she opens the door to come out, I step into the stall with her pulling the door closed behind me."

"Shit, what did she do?" I asked.

Grace shrugged and said, "She initially got this slightly panicked look on her face, but then she seemed to relax, and this sexy little smile developed on her lips. She knew what I was there for, and she wanted it too."

Okay, by this point in her story, I'll admit I was wet. I tried to convince myself that it was solely due to the erotic nature of her tale and that it had nothing to do with the lesbian aspects of her story. I was lying to myself, and I think maybe I knew it at the time, at least subconsciously.

"My hands went to her hips, and hers went around my neck. And I swear cuz, the moan that girl let out when our lips finally met told me she would never fully consider herself straight again."

Grace went on to say that she'd spun the woman around and lifted her skirt, pulling her thong to the side so she could sink two fingers as deep as she could in the middle-aged blonde's pussy. My cocky cousin said the woman came the first two times on her fingers and did so screaming. Grace then had her sit on the back of the toilet and prop one leg on the seat with the other straddling the handicap railing.

"The second this talented lesbian tongue began licking her honeypot, I think I changed her life forever. No longer will that woman's sex life be dickcentric, I can promise you that. She came another two times on my tongue before finally saying that she had to get back to her friends."

"Wow," I said, a steady heartbeat thumping behind my turgid clit.

Grace just grinned and said, "But before I'd let her leave the bathroom, I made her promise that she would come home with me. I made her call her teenage daughter right there and tell her she wouldn't be home because she had gotten drunk and would be spending the night with a friend."

"Wait," I asked, "you brought her back here last night? Because I've been sitting out by the pool all day, and I don't remember seeing anybody leave."