Dallas Mayo - For women only

"You're staring, my dear. Must you?"

"Oh. Sorry. I was just wondering… uh…"

"I didn't wear any."

"Huh?"

"Panties. I skipped them tonight, why tear another pair? You do remember, don't you?"

"How could I ever forget? But now that you've told me, I've really got something to stare at."

"Tsk, tsk. Try not to." She took the glass from me; then, after a sip, "Go sit over there on the sofa, hmm? That should remove at least some of the temptation."

"Oooh, you're so mean." I obeyed, pouting.

She ignored that. "You know, if I come around often – or even only once in a while – maybe I ought to keep a robe or something here, hmm? Can you spare a little closet space?"

My pout vanished. "Of course. The whole closet, if you like. But make it often, not just once in a while. Please? And you don't have to wait for an invitation. Come anytime. I mean, uh, just as long as it doesn't… uh…"

"I understand. Don't worry, I won't interfere with my husband's schedule. That's no problem. No, darling, my only problem is making sure that you really do want me."

"I do, I do. I've already said so."

"You want me for yourself? The truth now, Rory. It's not because you're worried about the trouble I might cause you? Not because of fear of me?"

"I just want you, that's all."

"Sweet thing. Oh, I'm so embarrassed about that. About the way I threatened you, the way I held it over your head. How you must have hated me!"

"Well, uh, it was pretty bitchy, I guess. At first, anyway. But then afterward, well…"

"Bitchy is right. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Silly. There's nothing to forgive. Not any more. Julia, can't we just forget it? As though it never happened, okay?"

"You darling girl. I don't deserve such kindness. I really am a bitch, you know. A wicked bitch. You're bound to find that out sooner or later. Fair warning! Even without any threats, I still went ahead and seduced you, remember?"

An eerie shudder went through me. I remembered, all right, but it was too late for any backtracking, the deed was done. At this moment she even looked wicked, despite the crossed legs, the overly decorous posture. A wicked seductress in a brassiere and garter belt, black on amber, the straps and stockings and high-heeled pumps as sinfully alluring as any sexy magazine cover. A wicked woman actually admitting, declaring, proclaiming her wickedness.

"You seduced me, and I loved it. Julia? I-I guess maybe I am a little bit afraid of you. For whatever reason. But can you blame me?"

"Afraid. Hmm. You shouldn't be. But if it's only a little bit, I shan't criticize. I might even enjoy it. You're like a child obedient to an authoritative teacher. Only I feel more like a mother to you, a loving mother with a loving daughter. Come, dear, come sit on my lap and let me cuddle you."

I scrambled from the sofa, eager to plop myself down on those temptingly sleek thighs. She uncrossed her legs and set the glass aside at the same time, welcoming me now with open arms. I giggled happily, nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, leaning upon the lush support of her bosom.

"Oooh, yes, I'll be your baby girl…" A quaint thought struck me, eliciting another giggle, almost hilarious. "Hey, but wouldn't that be incest?"

"Rory. Hmph. Incest, what a dreadful word! I ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

But we were both giggling by then, and soon she was stroking my hair, petting me, cuddling me closer, crooning tiny syllables of sweetness into my ear. As if she had really put me in this role, the child her body had never conceived. I went all soft inside, a sense of compassion first and then gradually of genuine sexual passion, aroused by the heat of her near-naked flesh. After that I just couldn't wait any longer, reaching around behind her back to seek out the fastener of her bra. She swayed forward, giving me room to work in. And at last the catch opened and the bra loosened, spilling those big breasts out into the open.

They filled the screen of my vision, the resilient flesh all quivery right there in front of me. And I could only apply my sucking lips to the soft skin and lose myself in its magic. It was a swirling sensation, aided by the insistent stir of her shoulders, the steady side-to-side twist of her upper torso, even the firm caress of her hands on my head, all combining to roll the great delectable things back and forth across my open mouth. My tongue flicked and dabbed resolutely, licking at each nipple in transit but unable to concentrate on either one. And yet both seemed to stiffen perceptibly against my tongue tip. I wondered if I was doing it right. Probably not. Everything was so new, so different, so complex; oh shit, what does a kid like me know about sucking tits?

The swirling feeling increased, making me giddy, doubtless the result of my own perversely thwarted desire, my need to cling and hold and suck those nipples one after the other between my lips, into my mouth where I could treat them with a certain diligence. And perhaps sample their taste and texture slowly, more possessively, ending the weird noises that rose in my throat as the sensation became ail but unbearable. My tongue felt inept, ungainly, its size utterly useless…

"Ouch! Wait, sweetie, my garter belt is pinching. Let me up, will you? Sorry. No more titties for my baby girl."

I hated stopping like that, leaving off in the midst of what could only have been a poor performance. Without even a chance to catch up and compensate. It wasn't fair. But I was already tumbling off her lap, too late even to get my feet under me. And as she rose to full height, I hit the floor with a thump. On my ass! My well-padded ass, luckily, chubby enough to cushion the fall and survive with safety if not without embarrassment. No bones broken. Only my feelings were hurt. Not that I expected any apology, though – or even a reasonable facsimile thereof – it just wasn't in this big woman's nature to blame herself for such a bump.

Big. Oh wow, yes, she was big! Glancing up from the floor, a worm's-eye view, I was startled by the immensity of her. It was just the angle, more than likely, but I was impressed all over again. Her legs seemed so long! Even longer with the added inches of those sexy shoes, the stilt heels. She was stretching lazily but with a deliberate extension of her arms overhead, an elongation of her entire body, evidently to smooth out and soothe whatever spot of skin had been pinched by the garter belt. It was easy to see how the thing could pinch her, the way it nipped in her midriff to an impossibly narrow dimension, more like a heavy-duty waist cincher than a simple suspender garment to keep the dark nylon stockings taut. Although it did look modishly feminine, even dainty – a garter belt, sure enough – an elegant black satin affair, shiny on the surface, with shirred elastic straps almost gaudily prominent down each firm-fleshed length of tawny amber thigh. Anyway, from my low viewpoint, that enormous tower solidity of her thighs. Lavishing my overflow of love upon the skin, the stocking tops, the elastic ribbons, even the impersonally rigid metal fasteners. But always with a wistful eye on the goodies up above, the ultimate goal of my quest; ah yes, how I yearned to penetrate that tangle of hair with my tongue and sink into the inner softness and just suck and suck and suck…

"Well now, what have we here?" There was a certain derision in her tone, an attitude of faintly whimsical indifference. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"You won't find it the same doing it like that. From down there, I mean. It's not like a sixty-nine. You think you'll be able to handle something new?"

"Ummin…"

"Don't just nod your head, baby. Say it. Say it right out loud. You're hot for my cunt, isn't that so?"

"Hot. Yesss. Hot!"