The Sapphic Sisters of Pax Bk. 02

The Sapphic Sisters of Pax - Book 2

Copyright 2014, 2021 Lisa Summers

All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No man saw the greatest conspiracy in history coming.

This is a story from that hidden, global war.

Chapter 1

Amanda Mayfield woke to the sensation of a pair of lips gently kissing her shoulder.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Neil, her slightly balding and a little paunchy thirty-six year old husband chuckled softly, his breath now racing across her ear. The plump dirty blonde shivered pleasurably there in the warmth of their shared bed, his body hard against her. She pushed back into him with her soft bottom, certain of what he was up to. She reached behind her, her hand groping blindly until she found his hard, hot throbbing rod.

"Somebody's perky this morning, isn't he?" she laughed throatily, her fingers soft on his erection, already slowly rubbing up and down the thick shaft.

"Yeah, that's what I like, whispered Neil. "But you've got something loads more fun for me than your hand, don't you?"

"Maybe," Amanda teased, batting her brown eyes like a sultry vixen in a 1920s silent film. "What does it look like?"

"Oh...it's pink, and sweet and small. Oh, and it's wet and smells nice, it's warm when you let me use it. And of course, I have a picture of it on my iPhone."

Amanda whirled around. "You have a picture of my pussy on your iPhone?" she said, surprised, but not totally displeased.

Neil laughed. "I meant your mouth...but I'd be more than happy to fuck your hot little twat," he said, already rising above her, as his thirty year old wife reflexively lay back to make herself accessible to him. She spread her legs as he swung his legs between hers, his fingers habitually checking to see if she was ready for him.

"Oh, you're wet already," he said, surprised. She stroked his cock with her hand, pulling him into her. She didn't dare tell him why she was wet - she wasn't quite sure herself and needed time to think about it. Her wild dreams were already fading.

"I'm wet for you," she whispered, as he sunk into her, his fat cock stretching her pleasurably and he began the dance they both enjoyed so much. He stroked in and out of her as they kissed, his body so exciting as he dominated her small five foot, one inch frame.

"Fuck me," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck me and make me your bitch," she groaned as she felt an orgasm approaching, her clit responding to his pressure as he pumped her cunt with his cock, his pink rod filling her equally pink opening. A drop of his sweat dripped from his chin onto her forehead, the salty fluid trickling into her eye making it sting a tiny bit. His passion pushed her harder toward her own cum.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," he gasped, his breathing ragged. She felt the hot spurts of his semen filling her and she thrust with her hips as his sperm splashed inside her, setting her own orgasm off and giving him what she instinctively felt he needed at that instant. They both moaned and shivered into each other, their closeness and oneness reaffirmed by this most beautiful marital act.

Like a building collapsing in slow motion he relaxed onto her, but keeping the bulk of his weight off her, though there was no physical sensation she enjoyed more than feeling Neil protectively cover her, making her feel safe and wanted. Even more than her orgasm was the feeling of being one with her man, after satisfying him. She was content, and wanted for nothing more.

After a few minutes she then said, "Ugh, get off me you big, hairy man! You've got to get dressed and I've got to make you breakfast!" It was their little shared joke - he was better at putting together a breakfast than she would ever be, but Amanda did make a mean buttered toast and her coffee was appreciated by them both, and she would sit with him at the breakfast table drinking coffee while he prepared and ate a bowl of cereal and microwaved scrambled eggs to go with his toast.

They talked about the neighbors, and the state of the economy, and he filled her in on what he expected to accomplish that day, when he rose, kissed her heartily, making her squeak a little, and walked out the door to drive off to his job in Manhattan. She knew that awful things sometimes happened to the good men and women that work in that busy city, and she prayed that he would come home safe.

Then, feeling guilty, she would amend the prayer as she always did, asking that all who worked there would come home safe, though she didn't know any of them personally. She attended to the things for which she bore responsibility - checking their bills online, paying those she could, arranging their bank accounts to make sure there would be no shortfall, on and on, then making sure the house would be in some kind of acceptable condition for a husband who deserved nothing but the best and the best that she could do.

After that she settled down in her chair with her second cup of coffee, watching 'America's Newsroom, with Bill Hemmer and Martha MacCallum' on the Fox News Channel. She'd been brought up in a strict Catholic family, and didn't feel right getting her news from the more liberal channels, though Neil had always kidded her about it, and he expressed no strong political positions - though in fairness, neither did she - it was just a matter of comfort.

They were a lovely couple, Bill and Martha, and Amanda had always wished she could look like Martha. Being shorter and a little bit plumper than Martha, and having a 'pretty' but not particularly beautiful face and complexion, Amanda could only sigh and be consoled by the fact that she had snared Neil, which was just Martha's loss, though Martha didn't seem too upset.

Amanda had a secret that she'd never told Neil.

Her secret was a fantasy she held, and that fantasy was to find herself in bed with Neil and Bill sometime. Sometimes she even thought about it while Neil was making love to her, and it wouldn't harm him if he never found it, and if she never told him. Her fantasy wasn't anything like that gross internet pornography that you might have heard of, or even seen. No tangled bodies, no multiples of men filling her openings and spraying their white, sticky cream all about.

No, she pictured - sometimes - Neil pumping away at her vagina as always, and Bill Hemmer kissing and holding her sweetly, her real man and her TV man making her feel secure. It was the best feeling that she could ever imagine for herself.

But today, for some unknown reason, she found herself looking at Martha MacCallum instead of Bill. Oh, she'd always thought of Martha as a friend, and fantasized about the two of them shopping together on 5th Avenue near where Neil worked, and drinking tea at a shop somewhere. But today there was some sort of inviting look in Martha's eyes, an extra lilt in her already happy voice that said, "Look at me Amanda, come and be with me." Amanda wasn't sure what Martha might have in mind, but it might not be just tea, she thought.

Amanda had never thought of other women as anything other than friends, or sometimes, as in high school, as mild enemies. It was certain that she'd never thought of women as potential lovers, and the thought of being in bed with another woman had never done anything to excite her. She thought of the last time she'd been in bed with another female - her twelve year old self and her ten year old sister - and she laughed. Between kicking each other and stealing blankets there hadn't been what anyone would ever mistake for romance, just two sisters sharing the only sleeping space available to them in a large Catholic family.

But this morning she closed her eyes as Martha was talking about congressional tax bills, and the image of Martha lying on top of her instead of Neil came unbidden into her mind's eye, and she shivered. Martha's long blonde hair fell around both their heads, her lips moving, murmuring something...endearments...words of love...her soft, full breasts against Amanda's, her warmth exciting Amanda, hard nipples pressing into Amanda's breasts, Martha's excitement intense, her hips pushing, pushing, pushing between Amanda's thighs...

Amanda came to with a start, her coffee cup tilted, a small splash of hot, creamy coffee on her thigh. "What was I-" she thought. "Just a dream, a weird dream," she said out loud, looking at the TV, where the weather lady - no Martha MacCallum in looks, to be sure, was talking about descending cold fronts.

Shakily, she put the cup on the table in front of her. "Maybe I'm just a little horny," Amanda thought. "I get that way when my period is due."

Except that her monthly visitor of the last seventeen years wasn't due for another week and a half.

Then she smiled. "Well, I am horny. Neil stirred me up this morning more than usual." Fortunately, she had a cure for that. Upstairs, in her bedside stand. Sometimes, Neil wasn't enough, though she would never tell him that. "He doesn't deserve having to feel as though he's ever failed me - and he hasn't. It's just that sometimes women and men have different needs," she thought.

With that thought, she went up the stairs, humming. She untied her robe as she went, letting it slip to the floor at the top of the stairs. She cupped and squeezed her full breasts, a little saggy but still enough for Neil, as she entered the bedroom, whispering to her mystery lover - another fantasy she used with her vibrator - and he felt her breasts, admiring them and promising to suck them once she'd completely stripped for him. Her nipples sprung erect, sensitive and responsive to the touch of a lover.

As she approached the bed, she stopped. As though addressing someone on the bed, she slipped her hand down inside her white cotton panties, her fingertips grazing along her slit. "Wet, already," she mused. "Or maybe from Neil." She dipped one finger inside herself then brought it up to her nose, expecting Neil's bleach-like semen smell there. To her surprise, she was faintly peachy in fragrance.

"Odd," she thought. "I don't even have a peach body splash or anything else." Then she licked her finger, the texture of the liquid there thick and creamy. "Why did I do that?" she wondered. She shrugged, then teased her mystery lover on the bed by pulling her panties down a few inches off her hip on one side, revealing a small amount of her neatly trimmed, but full, brown bush.

"More?" she responded out loud to her fantasy lover's entreaties. "You'll have to promise you'll lick me there if I show it to you..." There it was again, something different from her routine - oral sex never did anything for her, she just wanted her man to fuck her. But now she was using it in her fantasy?

Nonetheless, she was getting hotter, her pussy wetting at the thought of his tongue - it had to be 'his' - it must be his - licking her labia, lapping up her cream as it dripped from her slit, then circling around her pulsing clit - forced her to ease her panties down further. She imagined she was some stripper who would do that before licking her clients' pussies - no, their cocks, their big, hard cocks! Strippers were for men...right.

A frenzy hit her then, her panties dropping to the floor. She picked them up and stuffed them half in her mouth, threw herself on the bed, and using her fingers, stroked her clit harder than she'd ever dared, hot pulses of pleasure rocking her brain and cunt at the same time until she cried out with unbearable, almost painful pleasure, her hips and thighs shaking as she blacked out.

It was an unknown time later that she came to, her brain foggy. She looked at the bedside clock - she'd been out for about half an hour. She sighed, she'd never been so horny in her life, and this after Neil had fucked her not an hour before that. "I've never felt anything like that," she murmured. "I'd really better be up and about."

Instead, she lay in bed a few minutes longer. "I wonder if I can make myself that horny again," she mused. She reached into the bedside stand and under some old panty hose found her little vibrator. She'd always felt a little guilty using it, and she supposed it was one of those secrets that spouses were aware of, but never mentioned, like Neil's occasional searches for porn on the internet that she could see on the browser history. She didn't begrudge it to him, a man has needs, although she hadn't done anything like that herself.

She lay back and thumbed the switch at the base of the beige plastic, vaguely penis-shaped device - one of those that used to be advertised in women's magazines as a 'neck relaxer' - as if!

Her legs were pulled up, her slit opening a little. No need for any spit or lube, her pussy was literally dripping her own cream. "Ahh," she murmured as the gentle vibration began through her groin as she touched herself with its tip near her thigh. Clearing her mind and closing her eyes, she imagined herself at a party, meeting a handsome, charming man who enchanted her with his witty conversation and flashing eyes.

With partygoers all around them, he whispered in her ear, "There's a spare bedroom no one else here knows about, especially your husband." She looked directly into his dark eyes, and found herself unable to deny him, she was his for the night. She obediently let him lead her to the room, far from the others, and he led her to the bed, removing her cocktail dress - her only cocktail dress, the blue one - and leaving her in just bra and panties, tied her hands to the bedposts as she lay on the mattress, then he blindfolded her.

He began teasing her nearly naked body with his fingertips as she writhed in pleasure on the satin sheet, his fingertips, slim and light, knowingly touching her exactly where a woman would desire to be touched. When the fingers teased around the gusset, easing under the cloth to insinuate themselves into her wet slit, she felt a curiosity that the fingers had such long nails. Another set of hands began touching her breasts through her bra.

These fingers too felt different from a man's touch, as her bra slipped off her, and her panties disappeared leaving her helpless with these two - women? Regardless, the fingers at her vulva touched her in a knowing way that no man ever had, the barest touch there sending sweet shockwaves to her clit, and soft, warm lips now closing on her nipples, the distinctive feel of a woman's lipstick making it clear that she was being pleasured by women, although they were silent the entire time.

Then her orgasms began - a series of thrumming pulses of pure ecstasy coursing through her, originating in her tiny, pink clit but taking over her entire body like a remorseless tsunami of pleasure, leaving her moaning in the women's arms, their soft lips kissing her throat and mouth. Her blindfold ripped off, the two women were strangers to her, or rather, one she had seen somewhere before, the other was definitely a stranger.

Her eyes were captivated by the vaguely familiar brunette's brown eyes, dominating and guiding her into further orgasms, small ones now, a gentle ocean of feminine pleasure. "Oh god yesss," Amanda hissed. "Do me, make me cum, I'm yours forever darling," she whispered.

"I know," the brunette, a young girl, whispered confidently as she kissed Amanda on her lips, her tongue gently inserting itself inside her. Amanda dozed off, worn out by the unexpected sensual maelstrom the morning had brought her.

She woke, another half hour having passed. "Well, that wasn't a very good idea," Amanda thought. "Though, those were the most amazing orgasms I've ever had."

She got up and started with her daily chores, doing the laundry first. As that was running, she cleared the dishes, musing to herself about her experiences as she robotically attended to the kitchen.

"Why was I thinking about women?" she asked herself. It had never been much of an interest for her before, but now, if she thought about beautiful women in a sexual way, it brought a very strong response. "Am I becoming interested in other women?" she thought. "Is it possible I'm becoming interested in, um, lesbians?"

Amanda decided to look into the subject on the computer. She was perfectly familiar with how it works, but had never actually googled the word "lesbian." Now seemed the right time to try.

"306 million links? This shouldn't take long," she giggled. Looking idly through the first few pages, she found a link for "sensual lesbian massage" on one of the free pornographic video sites. She wasn't sure if she could be tracked by anybody on the site, but wasn't worried that her husband would check her history, as he never used her computer.

The short movie, by something called "All Girl Massage," was about 30 minutes long and actually looked very nice, not the sleazy porno film that she had feared, but rather a little story of two girls working out, and one of them tricking the other into coming to her massage business. The music was extremely feminine and light, and Amanda found herself wrapped up in the story, as well as how pretty and natural the two girls were, nothing like the heavily made up sluts she had always imagined were in those things.

Soon though, immersed in the video, she found herself as one of the participants, specifically as the girl receiving a massage, as she could almost feel the massage girl's hands on her, easing her tensions, then gradually building her excitement. She didn't feel at all nervous lying on the massage table clad only in a tiny pair of panties, barely covering her snatch much less her plump ass.

"How does that feel?" the girl standing above her asked. "Are you feeling that in your muscles? I think I can actually feel the tension leaving your body." Amanda could only moan. She didn't wonder at all how she'd gotten from her house to this woman's place, so feminine and homey.

Amanda almost came when the girl began massaging her feet - she had no idea how erotic it could be to have that part of her body handled with affection, and love. The girl giggled at her moaning. "Your happy ending is coming, I promise."

Amanda had no idea what that meant, but found it hard to believe there could be an even greater pleasure. The girl's fingers felt like bliss on her ass, too, and when she asked if Amanda wouldn't mind if she removed the little scrap of fabric covering her there, Amanda nodded her consent. "Yes, please," she said politely. The girl's fingers kneaded her large muscles back there - amazing how much tension we store in our bottoms. When her oil-dripping fingers reached Amanda's perineum and anus, Amanda felt all will sapped from her body. She couldn't have objected to the girl's touch even if she wanted to.

The girl's fingers knew just where to go, just what to do, to raise Amanda's anticipation and excitement, as she caressed, squeezed and rubbed her labia, inside of her wet slit and so carefully and gently at her clitoris. She had the most amazing touch that Amanda had ever felt, and she fell in love with the girl, though she knew nothing about her.

Amanda's first orgasm was perfectly created, her body and soul rising up to meet the wave of pleasure - no, an ocean of pleasure, in which Amanda was so happily drowning - then lowered her down to a calm, relaxed state afterwards.

Over and over she did these things, never repeating her touch and motions once, but always lifting Amanda up to that perfect state of bliss, that rapture, that few women she knew of had ever experienced. Amanda lost count, but it had to be over a dozen amazing orgasms that she experienced, and she dozed off, looking forward to giving the young girl the same wondrous delight that she'd just experienced.

When she awoke, she was seated on the sofa where she'd begun, her legs crossed before her, her fingers wet and pruney from her fluids, the seat itself wet and smelling of peaches, the laptop next to her.