tagLesbian SexThe Church Lady Comes to my Door

The Church Lady Comes to my Door


Great thanks to my editor dobob80 and for the insights of leftyloo and lancerval.

This is a tale of seduction and a little bit of romance. I hope you enjoy it.

I'm Reyna; I am a twenty two year old confirmed lesbian, but under the right circumstances I can look like I'm sixteen. Not only am I a lesbian, my preferred lovers are women who have never had a lesbian experience before. I love older women, ladies that are bored with their lives, their husbands, their routines. I love the ones that never see me coming, ones that want to mother me, to make it all better. The thing is; they mostly seduce themselves. I don't force them; I lead them where their bodies want them to go.

I don't have any special gaydar that makes me able to pick out the ones that are most susceptible; I strike out as much as the next girl. But, when I do hit on one that is curious, even if she doesn't fully realize it, I am ready, more than willing and able to quench that curiosity.

Sometimes, when I succeed, we'll have an affair that lasts a little while. Those mostly come to an end when they start feeling guilty and toddle back to their staid, boring lives and hubby's bed. Most times, though, we'll have a torrid, smoking hot couple of hours, after which my lover, realizing what she's done, runs shrieking from my bed. As bad as it sounds, those are my absolute favorites. There is terrific, mind blowing, enthusiastic sex followed by no worried phone calls, no drama, no fretting over whether or not I love them, they're just gone. I have never heard from any of those again. If I see them out anywhere, like in a store, when they recognize who I am, they turn and run. It's actually pretty funny.

My first lover was my mom's best friend. She's probably a big part of the way I am. There was nothing planned, it just happened while we were working on a surprise party for my mom. We got close by spending so much time together. One day, when a particularly difficult problem was resolved, I got excited and threw my arms around her and gave her a big kiss. It quickly turned passionate and the next thing I knew we were in her bed with our faces in each other's pussy. To this day, whenever Evelyn is feeling frustrated with her marriage or is irritated with her husband, I'll find her on my doorstep. Sometimes, she'll stumble onto a little fling that I'm having and if my friend is agreeable, she'll join in. Most times, though, she and I are just having fun. To this day, I still learn something from her every time we are together.

My latest seduction took place this past Saturday. I got up and got dressed to do my weekly housework. I put my long, brown hair up in pigtails, an old, very short, jean skirt and a V-neck crop top that showed a great deal of cleavage and if I were to bend over, the bottoms of my round C-cup boobs. I didn't put on any underwear, because I got busy last week, didn't do the laundry and had worn my last clean pair of panties and bra to work yesterday. I figured I was just going to be home alone all day, anyway.

The first thing I did was to change the sheets on the bed and make it. I tossed the dirty sheets onto the pile of clothes in the laundry hamper. I picked up everything, dusted and vacuumed the bedroom and it was finally spotless. As I was carrying the laundry to the laundry room, I looked in the spare bedroom, where there's a twin bed, my desk and computer. It was still a disaster from when I was doing some work I brought home earlier in the week. I sighed because I have an issue with throwing things down when I am finished with them. It's an old habit from when I lived at home and my mom picked up after me. I hate that about myself, but I can't seem to stop.

I stopped in the living room and looked at the mess in there and realized that I would have to clean that room up while the washing machine and dryer were running.

Anyway, I finished dragging all the laundry to the laundry room and was sorting out the different piles when the doorbell rang. Grumbling at the interruption, I trudged from the back of the duplex to the front door. I keep it closed so that when I look through the peephole and someone is there that I don't want to see, I don't answer it.

This morning, however, I looked out at a thirty-something vision in white. As I opened the door I could see that she had blonde hair done up in a French twist, a big floppy white hat, a very, very demure white sundress, white hose and fashionable, yet sensible white sandals. She had cornflower blue eyes with long blonde (so she's a natural blonde, I wonder if she's blonde everywhere I thought naughtily) eyelashes, a cute little nose and perfect little dimples. She looked like a grown-up cheerleader and I love cheerleaders. The sun shining behind the white dress showed a tasty hourglass figure. Her legs were perfect in the white stockings peeking out from beneath the knee length dress.

She was holding a small purse, a bible and what looked like a bunch of flyers. Her first question made my decision for me and sealed my response.

Before I could speak, she said, "Hi, sweetie, are either your Mom or Dad home?"

My first thought was, 'Yeah, probably, at their house.' But instead, putting a little quiver my voice I said, "Daddy doesn't live here and my Mom isn't here." Both answering statements were true, just waaay out of context.

I sniffled a little and the look on her face turned sympathetic. 'Gotcha!' I thought wickedly.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" The sympathy in her voice was sincere and her touch on my arm was electric.

I sobbed once and turned, allowing her to see the single fat tear rolling down my cheek. "N-n-nothing. Y-y-you d-d-don't w-w-ant t-t-to h-h-hear m-m-my p-p-problems."

"Sweetie, what's your name?" She asked softly. "Maybe I can listen to you and make you feel better."

"R-r-reyna L-l-lucas." I stammered, "Wh-wh-what's your n-n-name?"

"Belle Thompson." She said, sticking her hand out.

I smiled a little, taking her hand, "Belle, like a southern Belle?"

"See, it's not so bad, I made you smile," Belle said, smiling herself, "and yes, Belle like a southern Belle. Do you want me to come in so we can talk?"

'Holy shit! She's making this easier by volunteering.' I was getting more excited by each passing moment.

I just nodded and turned, reluctantly dropping her soft, smooth hand. As I walked into the living room, I acted as though the mess would make trouble for me.

"Oh my gosh!" I squealed, "My Mom's gonna kill me for letting somebody see the living room like this!"

(Again, true, but out of context, my mother would kill me for allowing a guest to see my home like this, even though it was my home.)

I started rushing around picking stuff up. I was careful to let my boobs flash out of the shirt and bent over far enough to let Belle see that I wasn't wearing panties. I twisted around to grab some more stuff and to see where her eyes were.

'Yesss!' I thought, as her eyes were clearly glued to my ass.

She didn't see me looking at her and she looked a little flustered. I moved a few feet to make certain that she was watching me closely, and got my confirmation because her eyes never left my ass. I rushed out of the room with an armful of stuff and put it in the laundry room. I paused in the laundry room to assess my situation and chances. She had definitely been watching my ass. So she was either shocked or intrigued and I had to find out which. I pulled the left side of my crop top up and tucked it under, just barely exposing the deep pink aureole of my hardened nipple.

I rushed back into the living room to find her frozen to the spot where I left her. She was staring at the floor and the noise I made coming in startled her. Her eyes flashed to my face, but not before pausing and widening at the partially exposed breast.

"I, uhhh, I p-p-probably n-n-need to g-g-go..." She stammered.

'Probably? So she's unsure? Nice!' I thought.

I started to cry, "Noooo, please don't go..." I pleaded, "my mom'll kill me if I made such a mess that a guest left..."

I threw myself on the couch, hands over my face, fingers carefully spread so I could watch her, my legs splayed, exposing my waxed bald, and wet, glistening pussy. I almost laughed; her eyes had gotten cartoonishly wide, nearly bugging out of her head. I squirmed around, briefly rubbing my legs together, hiding my pussy momentarily. When I exposed it again, the tip of her pink tongue barely escaped her lips and licked, leaving them moist.

I pulled my hands away from my face to show her the big tears sliding down my cheeks. As I hoped, her motherly instincts took over and she rushed over to sit at my side and drew me into her arms.

"Shhh, baby, don't cry," she murmured in a soothing voice, "it's OK; we won't let you get in trouble. Let Belle make you feel better."

She had pulled my head to her chest, my cheek resting on her nice, round, soft breast. We sat there for a few moments before I craned my neck up to kiss her on the neck. I let my tongue glide out between my lips to give her a minute lick. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to make her wonder if that was what happened. She stiffened.

"I, uhhh, don't think that's appropriate, Reyna." She said softly. But, her tone was not dismissive, it was more plaintive, as though she liked it, but thought she shouldn't. I kissed her neck again, this time with more tongue and her breath caught.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I was trying to thank you for being nice and I thought a kiss would be nice."

I feigned struggling to stand up, causing her dress to shift up above her knees. I threw my leg over her legs and rubbed my pussy on her knee. I got to my feet and glanced down at her knee. It was damp and I grinned to myself as I looked at her eyes as she looked at it. Her eyes shifted to my face and quickly I returned to the saddened look.

"I, I, I'm so, so, sorry." I mumbled as I ran to the guest room.

I threw myself on the bed that was barely big enough for me, spreading my arms and legs. I wanted to show off my bare bottom and pussy, but I also wanted to make the bed seem as small as possible. I listened intently as at first, there was silence in the living room then the sounds of Belle standing up from the couch. There was silence again as she was obviously deciding what she wanted to do. This was the first crucial moment of my seduction. She had to come in here on her own. Finally, I heard her moving and I couldn't tell where she was going. It was excruciating just waiting for her, but it was also absolutely necessary. It also heightened the anticipation and my desire. I was soaking wet by this time. Then, at the door to the guest room, I heard her voice.

"Reyna?" She whispered, "Are you OK?"

I shook my head in the pillow. "I'm in so much trouble," I mumbled into the pillow.

I heard her take several steps and sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand rested on the bare skin of my back, below the crop top and just above the waistband of the jean skirt.

'Oh god, her hand is so warm and soft. Control yourself, Reyna, you're almost there.' I thought.

"It's OK, sweetie," Belle said soothingly, "we'll make sure you won't be in trouble. Let me help you feel better."

She gently rubbed my back and tried to get me to roll over. I resisted for a moment and then when she slid her hand to my side, I suddenly sat up, filling her hand with naked boob and rock hard nipple. I didn't give her a chance to react and withdraw her hand, capturing it between us as I threw myself into her arms. Her hand didn't move, but I was too forceful and knocked us onto the floor.

I was lying on top of her, her hand now gripping my boob, and we both started giggling. "Oops," I said, "sorry about that."

I started to sit up and noticed that her hand didn't leave my breast. I took a deep breath, assuring that her hand was filled with warm, soft breast. I let the breath out, hitching with a sob as I did.

"Sweetie?" Belle murmured, "what's wrong?" I noticed that her hand had not left my breast.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "You were being nice, and I'm such a spaz that now we're on the floor and your pretty dress is gonna get dirty."

"OK, then," she said, finally releasing my boob, "let's get up."

I lay there for a moment, not moving. I raised my head and said, "I'm sorry, it just feels so good to have someone close to me, and Mommy hasn't held me for a long time."

"Ohhh, baby," Belle murmured, "I'll hold you if you want."

I lay my head on her shoulder and she giggled. "But, not on the floor."

I giggled, too. "Sorry."

As we struggled to our feet she said, "Please stop apologizing, you've done nothing wrong."

"OK, sor..., uhhh, OK." I mumbled.

She looked doubtfully at the tiny bed. "Could we go back out to the living room? I'm afraid we'll end up on the floor again."

"No, the living room is so messy," I said, taking her by the hand. "The other bedroom is clean; I always have to do that one first. Let's go in there."

She stopped, still holding my hand. "Are you sure it'd be OK with your Mom? I don't want her to come home and find us and misunderstand."

"Yeah, it's OK," I assured her; "she's out and won't be here until tomorrow sometime." (Mom usually visits on Sunday afternoon while Dad is watching whatever sport is currently in season.)

Belle allowed me to lead her into my bedroom. My queen sized canopy bed was the centerpiece of the room. When I moved in here I made the room that I had always wanted.

"Wow, this room is beautiful." Belle said.

I started to say thanks, but I remembered that this was my "Mom's" room. "Yeah, my mom likes frilly things."

I pulled down the white comforter, revealing the deep red linens that matched the walls. I scrambled up on the bed, giving Belle a good look at my bottom and pussy. I quickly turned around so that I could see her reaction. She had that 'deer-in-the-headlights' look that is so priceless. She saw me watching her and quickly recovered. She bent, took off her sandals and approached the bed.

She started to climb onto the bed and I stopped her. "You're gonna get that pretty dress all wrinkled. Why don't you take it off and hang it up." She hesitated, obviously thinking that it would be wrong.

I whispered encouragingly, "Don't be shy; we're all girls here."

She had stopped with one knee still up on the bed. The doubt and confusion was evident on her face. Finally, she pulled her leg down and walked over to the closet. Another critical moment had arrived. Like coming into the bedroom, she had to take her own dress off. Hopefully, her mind wouldn't register that the clothing in the closet was much too young for a woman my mother's age.

She pulled a hanger out without paying attention to the clothing in the closet. She hung the hanger on a hook on the inside of the closet door. Reaching behind her, she hesitated before pulling down the zipper. I tried not to stare as the white sundress hung on her shoulders before she shrugged and it dropped to her waist. I was stunned by what was revealed. I expected to see a plain, white cotton, sturdy bra; instead she was wearing a Victoria's Secret Very Sexy Demi Bra. I knew what it was because I had one just like it. The slight push-up gave her cleavage and the name of the bra was extremely appropriate, she was very sexy.

She bent at the waist and pushed the dress down off of her hips. She caught it before it fell to the floor and stepped out of it. She turned and hung the dress on the hanger. I was breathing hard at this point, trying to control myself. I had expected pantyhose, but incredibly, she had on thigh high stockings held in place by a white lace garter belt, over white lace boy shorts. Her beautiful skin was flushed in embarrassment as she turned to fully face me.

"Now it's my turn to apologize," she murmured, eyes cast on the floor, "until I pushed the dress down, I had forgotten what I was wearing underneath. I bought these on a whim when an old friend dragged me into the store. I keep them hidden from my husband; he wouldn't approve. I am so embarrassed. I don't normally dress like this, but I just felt like it today. I don't know why."

"Belle," I whispered, barely able to breathe, "don't be embarrassed. You are incredibly beautiful and I feel like a toad next to you."

She smiled and said, "Thank you, but you shouldn't feel like anything but a princess. You are a beautiful girl."

She walked to the bed, climbed in and lay down. The contrast between Belle's fair skin, her blonde hair, the white lingerie and the deep red linens took my breath away. She lifted her arms and reached out to me. I crawled over to her, taking a route that put my head higher than hers. When I lay down I giggled because my boobs were in her face and then slid down so that my head was on her shoulder. My crop top slid up and my bare breasts rested warmly against the naked skin of Belle's side and tummy. My skirt had also ridden up and I pressed my wet pussy to the outside of her thigh, between her panties and the top of her stockings. Belle gasped, but did not pull away. I snuggled into Belle's neck and loosely threw my left arm across her the soft skin of her firm stomach. Belle wrapped her left arm around me and her hand rested on my side, just below my boob, hugging me to her. My heart beat faster and my pussy moistened even more.

"How does this feel sweetie?" Belle asked gently.

"Ohhh, it feels sooo nice." I moaned. "I'd forgotten how nice it feels to be held."

Belle took her free hand and picked up the pigtail that was draped across her chest. I watched as she played with the hair, running her fingers through the silky strands.

"Your hair is so nice and soft," Belle murmured.

"Thank you," I whispered, running my fingers across the skin of her tummy. "Your skin is awesome. It's so smooth and warm."

She said nothing, but continued to run her fingers through my hair. I slipped my fingers up to the bottom of her bra and felt along the edge. I felt her breathing pause, but she didn't say anything.

"Your lingerie is so pretty, Belle, I really like it." I said softly.

"Thank you sweetie." She answered.

Emboldened by her lack of resistance, I traced completely around the cup of her bra, running my fingers along the top edge and brushing her cleavage. She gasped, but other than that did not respond or resist the feathery light touch of my fingers. I turned my head and kissed the cleavage of the breast nearest my lips. I let my tongue trace along the skin, before withdrawing my lips. This time she didn't gasp, just lay very still, the rapid beating of her heart evident through her chest.

I became bolder, kissing the skin of the top of her breast with tiny, light kisses and stroking the skin of the other breast with my fingers. Her breathing had changed, it became deeper and slower. Her left hand started stroking my side, venturing to the exposed bottom of my boob. Her right hand abandoned my hair and stroked the side of my face. I slipped the fingers of my left hand into the top of her bra and she briefly froze, and then continued stroking my cheek and side. Her left hand became bolder and stroked the underside of my breast. She cupped my chin and raised my face to look at her face.

Her eyes were shining, her pupils dilated and her lips were parted. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. I knew in that moment that I had her. I raised my face to hers and she met my lips in a soft, tentative kiss. As we kissed, I slipped my tongue through my lips and grazed her bottom lip. She moaned, opening her lips and allowing me full access to her mouth. She didn't meet my tongue, content to allow me to softly explore her lips and teeth. While I had her occupied with my lips and tongue, I slithered my right hand behind her back and in a much practiced move, released the clasp of her bra. She gasped, yet again and withdrew her lips from mine. I rolled up on my elbow so that I was looking down into her face.

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