The Suburban Mom Pt. 03

The fritule were delicate and delicious, and Marcia complimented the younger woman on her culinary skills. She brushed it off by saying a six-year-old could make them. She had taken a seat next to Marcia, quite close to her, close enough to touch her knee if she so wished. For the moment, though, they just talked, each turning to face the other when they took their turn to speak. Vesna spoke about her life in Croatia and the dreams she wanted to fulfil in her adopted home. Marcia asked her questions and asked herself, not for the first time, what she found so attractive about this girl.

During a lull in the conversation, Marcia asked Vesna how long she had been a masseuse. The Croat told her she had learned the rudiments from her mother, and had become qualified when she moved to Zagreb at the age of 21.

"Maybe you would like for me to give you one?" she said in her quaintly accented English.

"What now? Here?" said Marcia, the shakiness of her voice betraying her excitement.

"Why not?" replied Vesna simply.

"Do you have a table?" Marcia asked, quivering.

"No, but we can use my bed. It is quite suitable."

"I mean, look, you've only just got back from work. I think you deserve a rest. No, I can't impose on you like this."

"It wouldn't be an imposition. Here, come with me."

Vesna took Marcia by the hand and led her into her bedroom. The bed was bare apart from the pink bedsheet and a couple of matching pillows.

"It's okay, I changed the sheets this morning."

"Well, okay. I guess. Shall I lie down then?"

"And ruin your beautiful dress. Here, let me help you with the buttons."

"It's alright, really it is. I can manage," said Marcia, her voice shaking like a leaf, her body not far behind.

"I insist," said Vesna. "It's all part of the service."

Marcia closed her eyes (almost screwing them shut like a truculent child) and stiffened as Vesna's fingers made easy work of the large buttons. When she had gotten half way, she dropped to her knees and for a moment Marcia's mind became full of wild fantasies. But instead of halting her progress, the girl continued at the same pace until the last button had been undone. The long dress fell open, revealing the lingerie that Marcia had bought only that week, which combined a daring lace pattern with what the salesgirl had described as a "scalloped eyelash trim".

Marcia was concerned that Vesna would think that the purple colour didn't match the light blue of her dress. It has to be said that Vesna's mind was focused on other things, like helping her to step out of her sandals. Still kneeling, she lifted each foot in turn and encouraged Marcia to place her hand on her shoulder for balance as she eased her footwear off. She wanted to kiss the toes that had been so beautifully painted, but decided that this was a pleasure that would lose nothing by being delayed a while.

Vesna rose, gave the dress a push so that it slipped off Marcia's shoulders and pooled at her feet, and told her to lie face down on the bed.

"Would you like me to use oil?" she asked.

"That would be nice," replied Marcia, making herself comfortable in the middle of the bed.

The first thing Vesna did was to tie Marcia's hair in a band so she wouldn't get oil on it. Marcia felt drops of liquid land on her shoulders, swiftly followed by Vesna's supple fingers. She worked Marcia's shoulders expertly before moving to her neck and using exactly the right pressure, so that Marcia almost fell asleep. Noting the way in which her client was relaxing, the masseuse started to massage her arms, moving from her armpit to her wrist via her biceps and forearm.

Returning to her back, without a word to Marcia, she unclasped the bra and moved the straps out of her way. She proceeded to rub the broad expanse of her upper back, adding more oil as she went.

"I'm sorry," she said, temporarily interrupting the massage. "I got some oil on you bra. Perhaps it is better if I put it somewhere safer?"

"Okay," replied Marcia. "If you think that will help."

Marcia raised herself a little so Vesna could remove the garment. As she did so, her slick fingers touched one of her breasts. Marcia was powerless to prevent a gasp escaping from her lips. What Marcia, in the state she was in, didn't notice was the soft moan that escaped the Croat's lips at the same time.

Vesna used more force as she worked on the middle part of Marcia's back, checking from time to time to see if it wasn't too much. Marcia found herself wanting to say that nothing would be too much, but contented herself with a simple "No." As she approached the lower back, Vesna applied more oil, with the inevitable results.

"I'm sorry but I have got some oil on your beautiful new panties. I think it would be easier without them."

"I don't know about that," responded Marcia, although she was thinking less about her modesty than about how the girl knew the panties were new; how she knew that they had been bought for her!

"If you like, I could take off my top," was Vesna's response. "It might make you feel more comfortable.

"Oh my God!" thought Marcia, wanting both things so badly.

"Okay," she replied meekly.

She eased her ass in the air so that Vesna could take her panties off. As the masseuse did so, she saw how the fabric around the gusset stuck to Marcia's vagina, as if glue had been applied to it. In a way, she realized, it had.

Vesna cradled the skimpy purple garment in her hand as if it was the most precious kitten. The imagery was too much for the girl, who brought the lace to her nostrils and inhaled the wondrous fragrance. After placing the panties on the bed, she took off her top, tweaking her nipples for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and got back on the bed, this time straddling Marcia's delectable body. She could hardly wait to taste the delights it had to offer, but knew that her patience would be rewarded if she could maintain her discipline and stick to her plans.

As it happened, she tweaked her plans immediately, but not out of impatience. She decided to work on Marcia's feet first and then make her way up to her buttocks. She turned around and sat on Marcia's butt, the fabric of her short skirt creating friction for both of them. She thought of losing the skirt, but decided to keep it on. She wanted to drive the married woman mad with desire for her before she finally took her.

Chapter 11

Marcia was struggling to keep it together. She wasn't sure if she could hold out any longer. Why didn't the girl just flip her over and bring her off? But her mood soon changed as Vesna started working on her toes, even as her butt began grinding into her own.

"Oh, fuck!" murmured Marcia, as Vesna bent over and took her toes in her mouth.

Encouraged by the older woman's response, Vesna worked her way up one leg and then the other until she had reached the sensitive area at the back of the knee. She broke off for a moment to remove her skirt, so that now it was naked flesh against naked flesh. Moving to the bottom of the bed, she eased Marcia's legs apart and started the journey upwards from her knees, this time using her hands. She applied oil liberally to her thighs, unconcerned with the state of the bedsheets. She could see Marcia's pussy clearly now - dark labia framing a very generously proportioned inner chamber.

As she made her way up, she saw Marcia raise her ass, begging her to invade her pussy with her fingers and her tongue. She refused, though, to be deflected from her schedule, and, tracing her fingernails over her inner thigh as close to her sex as she dared, she moved her attention to Marcia's ass. More oil and more rubbing raised Marcia's desire to a whole new level, especially when Vesna upended the bottle of massage oil above Marcia's asshole and watched as it filled up the little bowl and overflowed down the short channel to her already well lubricated pussy.

"I think it's time to flip over," Vesna said, pleased with herself for the restraint she had shown, which would now pay a sizeable dividend.

Vesna gasped at the magnificence of Marcia's breasts, the magnificence of her entire body. For a minute, she wasn't sure what to do next, even though she had been in this position with many women. None of them had had the same effect on her that this woman was having. Should she oil herself up and slide up and down on top of her, mashing breasts and pussies? The thought of doing that nearly drove her crazy. Or should she lick those fabulous breasts, which were clearly desperate for attention? Or should she drive her tongue into the pussy which she had been dreaming about for so long?

In the end, her discipline prevailed, as she bent down to kiss her lover. Marcia's frustration was released at a stroke, as she held Vesna's slippery body in her arms while tongue played with tongue, and lips with lips. Inflamed with passion of her own, Vesna kissed Marcia's ears and neck before descending to her breasts. She took first one nipple then the other in her mouth, eliciting all kinds of responses from Marcia - some of which you wouldn't hear in a church.

Rather than head further south, Vesna offered her own tiny titties to Marcia. Tiny the mounds may have been, but not the nipples, which were longer yet than Marcia's own.

"That's so good," Vesna said simply, as Marcia worked the whole breast, loving it for being small as she would have loved it for being bigger.

"I want to taste you," said the Croatian girl, as if she were seeking Marcia's permission.

"I want it too," said Marcia, willing herself to delay her orgasm for a minute or two at least, but knowing that would never happen.

As soon as Vesna's tongue made contact with her pussy, Marcia knew the game was up. She did well to survive the first few gentle strokes, but when the skilful lesbian began to lave her inner lips and then her vagina she buckled.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried. "I wanted you from the moment I first set my eyes on you."

Her orgasm was like nothing she had experienced before. "Earthshattering" was the word she would use to describe it to herself later. Now, she thought, it was her turn to give pleasure to Vesna.

"How would you like it?" Marcia asked, feeling totally confident in her lovemaking prowess and her ability to make Vesna come as easily as she had come for her.

"I want you between my legs, so I can see your face while you bring me pleasure," said the Croat.

That sounded very reasonable to Marcia, who got straight down to work, although a look at the old-fashioned alarm clock that Vesna kept on the nightstand showed that it was only just past five and that she had plenty of time. The girl's pussy was surmounted by a triangle of dark hair, which she clearly kept trimmed. Marcia licked the dark coloured outer lips, her tongue bumping over the nickel-sized medial flap that was a distinctive feature of her physiognomy down there. She continued to lick the labia, sucking up the juices that were already escaping from inside. This flow and the awkward state of Vesna's breathing told Marcia how incredibly aroused the girl was. Marcia knew it was her job to intensify that arousal before providing a means by which it could be released.

Peeling apart the fleshy lips with her fingers, she moved her tongue in a languorous way up and down the inner labia - the tension in Vesna communicating itself to her as her whole body tensed up around her. With confidence came calm, and Marcia was able to ignore the Croat's repeated calls for her to finish her off, refusing to go deeper until she herself decided the time was right. Leaving her centre, she moved up to her face and engaged her in a long, lazy kiss. She sensed that Vesna had accepted that she must go at her pace if she wished to receive the satisfaction she was craving. The sense of empowerment pleased Marcia very much and energised her more than she could ever have believed.

She descended to her fried egg breasts and paid homage to them as if they were the most gorgeous pair of breasts in the world. At this moment, for Marcia, that is exactly what they were. Once again, she sensed the girl's impatience for her to suck on her nipples and once again she declined to do so. That would be enabling her, she thought: "feeding the monster", as a visiting preacher had memorably put it in one of his sermons.

When she was ready - and only then - did Marcia accommodate the girl's desires, and when she did do so, she licked them vigorously, causing her to moan in pleasure. She let one hand snake down her abdomen, bringing it to a halt in her bush. Vesna raised herself up off the bed, begging Marcia to invade her with her fingers, but the older woman stood firm. Since body language was ineffective, Vesna gave voice to her frustrations, asking Marcia to finger fuck her.

"If you ask me nicely, then I'll set what I can do," said Marcia, relishing the control she had over the migrant soccer coach.

"Please," she said. "Please use your finger to bring me off."

Marcia was amused by the fact that Vesna thought it was the words "finger fuck" that she had taken exception to. But "fair's fair", she thought, the girls' asked me nicely and now I must keep my promise. She placed a finger inside her pussy and couldn't believe how wet it was. It was as if someone had actually watered it! She suddenly realized that she would probably be able to fit her whole hand in there. She decided to put it to the vote; after all, they were living in the world's greatest democracy.

"I'm giving you a choice, Vesna. Do you want me to finger fuck you or do you want me to fuck you with my fist?"

To Vesna it was as if all her Christmases had come at once.

"Oh, please, do it. Fuck me with your fist!"

Marcia's technique was very simple. She simply added one more finger to the mix every minute or so until she had run out of fingers, when the thumb provided the missing piece of the puzzle. Then she started to twist the hand inside the girl's cunt. Vesna was crying out, but Marcia knew only too well that this wasn't because she was suffering any pain.

"Do you want me to pull out?" she asked mischievously.

"No, no!" Vesna shot back, not picking up the irony and desperate for Marcia to stay inside her and finish her off.

Marcia obliged by pulling back part way before plunging deep inside her cavern, enjoying the squelchy sound that she was making. Soon that sound was drowned out, though, by the noise Vesna made as she climaxed - the sound of a wolf (no, make that a pack of wolves) howling.

"My God!" thought Marcia. "I hope that one day I too might be able to achieve that kind of release!"

A glance at the alarm clock showed it was already six o'clock and Marcia knew she must be leaving soon. She also knew that she wanted to see this girl again. Her skills as a masseuse may have been very good, but as a lover she was even better. Alyssa had opened the door to a new world, but it was this elfin Eastern European with whom she had been on a tour of its most delightful spots. Marcia wondered if she hadn't fallen a little bit in love with her.

Before she left, Vesna said that there was more she wanted to share with her, new places she wanted to take her to. Marcia was curious and excited in equal measure, but chose not to ask her what she might mean. She knew that Connor would be travelling to the West Coast in early December for a series of meetings with clients, and they would have time then to explore further and consider which direction their relationship should take.

At the moment, Marcia couldn't imagine life without Vesna, but, equally, on the other hand, she couldn't imagine life without Connor either. The next few weeks would be critical, she felt. She would have the time to reflect on the momentous events of the past few days, and to set them - or at least attempt to set them - in the context of the totality of her life. She needed perspective, the perspective only time can bring.

As she got into her car and drove away, Vesna, naked as the day she was born, waved to her from the window. What Marcia couldn't see was that in her other hand Vesna was holding an item she had just taken out of her closet: a black leather strap-on harness, out of which jutted an angry looking dildo.