Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

He wheeled the little car out to the seaside boulevard. Sharon buckled her seatbelt and settled down to enjoy the wind whipping tears from her eyes and flailing her hair.

She watched Tom, studying his lengthy, hard-looking body, trying to superimpose his forceful masculinity on the image of the lovely Lita that kept bobbing up in her vision.

On almost every heartbeat she felt a burning in her groin, where Lita had lifted her bikini crotch and replaced the fringe of twat hair. Never before had a girl touched her pussy. Oh, when she was a young kid, she and some other girls had experimented with kissing and feeling titties.

But this was different. It was lesbianism, and her bowels were quaking.

Tom whipped the little car along the coast road for a few miles, then veered off on the highway and drove inland.

Sharon was calmer now. Maybe the whiskey had helped. Also, she felt reassured by Tom's firm grip on the wheel. He drove expertly, she thought. And she liked his looks. He was attractive without being handsome. His gaze was level, assured, sometimes quite piercing.

She knew that he was Harris' ace salesman and earned big commissions. Many a girl would give her eye teeth to marry him.

Sharon could not care less about that.

Why? She guessed her father's continual chasing of young broads had made home life seem impermanent. Somehow she trusted only her own ability to earn a dollar. Even if it involved her with a lesbian. She bit her lip. She didn't want to think of that, not now.

Tom eased off the highway onto a Macadam Road that wound through grazing country where hump-backed cattle wandered. The animals were beginning to gravitate to the meager shade of a few live oaks as the day's heat increased.

Tom drove slowly now. "Want to take the wheel?"

"No."

He eyed her. "I'm trying to figure you out, Sharon."

She smiled wryly. "That's a coincidence. So am I."

"Do you have a boy friend?"

"Nobody steady."

"But you're a terrific-looking girl."

She shrugged. "I'm a loner, I guess."

He stopped the car under a tree that shaded the road. He took cigarettes from his shirt pocket and gave her one. As he lit it Sharon felt the day's heat close in on her. The silence was broken only by the distant lowing of a cow.

"And you?"

"I play the field." He glanced sharply at her. "I make a bunch of money, more than most guys at my age. Lots of chicks would love to get their greedy hands into it."

Abruptly Sharon unsnapped her seat belt and climbed out of the car. She just had to touch something real, permanent. She went to an oak and rubbed her palms on the rough bark.

Tom was watching her.

Suppressing a smile, she smoothed the seat of her shorts, aware that she was drawing his attention to her plump, high-sprung ass. She was profiled to him and knew that her behind looked especially large when compared to the side view of her narrow waist.

She was in no mood to seduce him. If she were to beat down his price on the car, it would be at another time. But sometimes exhibiting her body gave her a charge of reassurance; and she felt it now, especially when she saw the growing bulge in the crotch of his pants.

"Tom, do you dig me?"

He chuckled. A red burn spread on his throat. "Very much so."

"Is it just sex?"

"I don't know."

She smiled, liking both his answer and his blush.

He said, "We should have a date. Get acquainted. Of course, since you work nights… But my mornings are slow. How about a picnic on the beach or out here in the country? Tomorrow?"

She suddenly felt a great deal better. She got back into the car, saying, "I don't know about tomorrow, but let's do that some day. I know I'd enjoy it."

She asked him to drive her to the Connoly house.

Bud and Lita's place was a cluster ranch house made up of white cubes, mindful of the motel, even down to the towering royal palms on the green lawns.

Tom halted at the front door. Sharon climbed out, shuttering her eyes against the sunlight blasting off the white walls.

She thanked Tom and went to the recessed front door, which was of dark wood, a respite for her sunburned gaze. She heard the little car crunch out the gravel drive and suddenly felt lonely and afraid. She turned to call out to Tom, but he was gone.

The door stood ajar. A note under the knocker read, Sharon. Straight through.

Sharon entered a chestnut-paneled hall hung with hunting prints. She went through toward brightness at the far end. There a glass door opened on a tile patio walled in by tall hedges.

She called out, "Lita?"

Lita replied from beyond the hedge. "Darling, to your right."

There Sharon found a gap in the hedge, which was very thick at this point. She penetrated it to a square of lawn enclosed by hedges eight or ten feet high. A pool was ahead, a pink tile oval. To the left was a white wicker chaise lounge on which Lita lay, stark naked except for her straw hat with the pink-ribboned crown.

Lita's nudity seemed to leap up at Sharon, filling her vision with impossibly beautiful sun-gilded flesh, gold from head to foot, broken only by the ruby nipples tipping her round breasts, and a fluff of blonde twat hair.

"Thirsty, Sharon?" Lita pointed to a white tray on the grass beside her. There two tall gasses sweated.

Sharon's mouth was parched by fear. She took a glass and gulped thirstily at it.

Lita said, "It's lemonade with just the tiniest drop of gin."

The tiny drop of gin landed in Sharon's stomach with a jolt.

Lita was smiling up at her. "You look hot in all those clothes. Get naked, darling, and join the bare-ass brigade."

Fortified by gin on top of whiskey, Sharon still felt shaky. She delayed, saying, "Let me have a look at the pool."

She replaced her glass on the tray and walked toward the pool, feeling her belly quake with fear. Lita was so composed. Sharon paused on the tile edge of the pool and studied the oval shape. The glittering blue water wobbled in her uncertain vision.

She recalled clutching the trunk of the oak out in the country where Tom had stopped the car. There she had gotten over the shakes by showing off her body for his benefit.

Could she pretend that Lita was a man lusting for her? Could she gain assurance that way?

She began undressing, stretching her halter out from the thrust of her breasts, then peeling it up her body. A faint breeze washed the hot tips of her tits. She tore off the halter and slowly turned to face Lita.

She saw, despite the concealing shadow of Lita's hat brim, a narrowing of her eyes, a dark gaze.

Sharon walked slowly toward her.

Never had she been so conscious of the protrusion of her breasts. They seemed to thrust out before her, two melons rising at the bottom of her vision, jutting, swollen like balloons, too plump to sag at all. They wobbled and rocked, dipped and jiggled. The big aureoles had puffed oat like rosy teacups from which projected long, pointing nipples.

She reached the tray and bent to pick up her drink. She saw her titties hang out, lengthening.

Lita said, "Darling, I think you have the loveliest breasts I've ever seen."

Her tone was a teasing banter. But there was a choked sound too. Yes, Lita was one of the girls.

Sharon felt more confident when she straightened. At least she knew what Lita was. She stood, sipping her drink, feeling sufficiently restored to smile down at Lita. But seeing the other's smaller breasts made her self-conscious again. Her own seemed almost gross, her aureoles too big, her nipples grotesquely extended.

She made the natural gesture of feeling over her breasts, saying, "It's certainly more comfortable to be bare-titted in the sunshine, isn't it?"

Lita nodded. She licked her lips. Her gaze flicked at Sharon's tits, then turned away, as though she were trying not to stare but could hardly stop herself.