Date: Sat, 16 Oct 2004 20:21:02 -0700 (PDT)
From: ybother1122@yahoo.com
Subject: Good Girl 8

This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you either;
A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or C) can't
read, you should really stop here. Why not get into counseling or a group?
Really, we're all worried about you. If you liked (or hated) this story,
please drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you
read here too seriously, we certainly didn't.



Denise and Heather sat on the large patio behind Sabine Maas' home
overlooking the ocean. They had covered each other with scented oils and
the air was rich with flowers and salt air. A pitcher of passion fruit rum
punch sat sweating on a small table.

Denise sat up and reached for the tanning oil, "There are going to be a lot
of people coming to the party tonight, you've got to be careful not to
burn."

She squeezed out a dollop of the fragrant oil into her hand and started to
knead it into Heather's back. After covering her shoulders and lower back
she untied the top of the girl's bikini and pulled it out from under the
girl.

Heather jumped up in surprise, allowing Denise's slick fingers to run over
her breasts. They both giggled, sharing a quick kiss before Heather lay
back down. Denise shrugged her own off and dragged her palms over her own
breasts before returning to the girl. More oil was poured.

"Do you remember what happened with you, Solique and Jaime at the last
party?"

Heather blushed, "Not likely to forget that soon."

"Well, there's going to be a lot of that tonight," Denise said, now
straddling the young girl. "Aside from some canapés, drinks and
conversation, that's going to be the most of what we're doing tonight."

Heather thought about that a second. Her memories of the drunken three way
on the beach with Sabine's lovers were a bit hazy. She remembered swimming
naked, opening her thighs for Jaime then grinding her pussy against
Solique's thigh while she rode him – but after that all she could remember
was lying down and going to sleep.

"A sex party?" Her voice had a toneless quality.

"Yes, that's as good a description as any" Denise had moved further down
and was rubbing the oil into Heather's slim thighs, rubbing her thumbs in
to stimulate the muscles. "It's more like an annual get-together."

A second passed before both broke out in gales of laughter. Denise rubbed
tears from her eyes, "We're just a group of friends, from all over the
world and this is what we do when we get together."

Heather got up, poured the two of them fresh drinks, and sat down on the
patio. "I've been meaning to ask you; how many others are there? I mean,
who are you and Steven with, other than me?"

"It's not structured, if that's what you mean," Denise said. "Every now and
again we meet people who we'd like to take to bed. We agree about the
conditions and make sure the other people know what the situation is. It's
just something we like to do. I wouldn't even call it a hobby."

Heather took a sip of her drink and lay back down. Denise immediately
returned to stroking her thighs. She let her fingers luxuriate in the
girl's ass, slowly kneading the back of the girl's blue bathing suit deeper
into its cleft.

"Was that what happened at the other party?" Heather asked. She had begun
gently rolling her hips against the woman's hands.

"Yes, you and Solique missed it." she said. "Jaime did as well as he could,
but he had already put the two of you to bed."

Heather remembered the outline of his face, framed by the clear moonlight,
over hers as he worked his cock in and out of her. The pounding surf marked
every third stroke. The thought caused the bloom of warmth building in her
stomach to double.

"You were the talk of the party, though."

"What?"

"The admiral and his wife fucked in front of you while you were sleeping,"
Denise said with an evil grin. "It was all we could do to keep her hands
off you."

"Really?" Heather wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

"You needed your rest, poor dear," she said. "Sabine sketched you and
Solique and left the door closed."

Heather searched her memories. She woke late the morning after, alone with
a headache and a dry tongue. Had she and Solique shared a bed that night?

Her mind had wandered and she reined it in tightly, "She sketched us, while
we slept?"

Denise leaned down and lavished kisses all over Heather's neck, "It was
incredible. You were both asleep but you ground against each other for the
longest time. Your hands were locked on her breasts while you ground
yourself against her ass."

With that, she let her hands glide under Heather's suit and her fingers run
over her bare backside. She pulled the suit down to the girl's knees and
poured more oil onto her. Denise let her fingers run all over Heather's
bare skin, swirling them around in the slickness between her thighs.

Heather sighed and arched her back, allowing Denise better access. Since
their first encounter, she had learned things about Denise Lindeman. Denise
was worldly, intelligent and could finger her to orgasm in minutes.

Denise's fingers slid into the cleft between the girl's buttocks and
started to gently circle the crinkled opening of her anus (eliciting a
startled cry from her) when they heard the click of approaching heels.

The two turned to see a pair of women standing at the far side of the
porch. Heather immediately thought of the taller one as "statuesque." She
had never had use for the word and it came, fully-formed, into her mind.

The woman was six feet tall, brunette, wearing a tailored suit that said
"serious money." It was a double-breasted pinstripe with a skirt that
nearly bound her knees together. She had the kind of hourglass figure
Heather only saw in 40s films. Her eyes were a dark brown that approached
black.

Next to her was a shorter woman in a dark, single-breasted suit with a very
short skirt. Her hair was a chocolate brown that faded to blonde at the
ends which dusted the top of her ass. She wore a pair of very expensive
sunglasses and carried a leather briefcase.

Denise smiled, "Catherine, you look wonderful."

The tall woman nodded, "This look costs, you wouldn't believe what health
clubs are charging in Manhattan."

Denise got up from the towel and leaned forward on her tiptoes for a
careful kiss ("oily!") from Catherine. They beamed at each other for a
second before Denise looked over at the other woman, "And this is?"

Catherine stroked the other woman's hair, "This is my Kitten."

"She's very pretty."

"Is this your new friend?" Catherine asked.

Denise beckoned for Heather to come closer, which she reluctantly
did. Slowly, nudity was becoming less and less of an issue for her.

"This is Heather, she's our babysitter."

Heather looked up at the woman's near-black eyes and felt immediate
pressure. She was magnetic, a force of nature.

She spoke after a short pause, "It's so wonderful to meet you, I've heard
so much. Kitten, greet her for me."

The shorter woman put down her briefcase and unbuttoned her coat to reveal
bare, c-cup breasts. The slide of a zipper at her left hip swept away the
short skirt to reveal an equally bare, completely shaven mound. She was
muscled like a gymnast, taut and lean. She took Heather's face in her hands
and kissed her deeply, pressing her crotch against her oily thigh.

Heather took the kiss with a little surprise. Kitten lingered with her
tongue fluttering in her mouth for a second before pulling away. Catherine
stroked Kitten's hair.

"I've spent the last 10 hours in a Lear, I'm getting a shower," Catherine
said. She took Kitten by the chin, "You stay here and do as you're
asked. Remember; nothing for you."

She nodded and began putting suntan oil on herself. Denise nodded to
Catherine and started working the oil into Kitten's skin. Heather started
to help, rubbing from her shoulders to brush against her breasts. The woman
took her wrist, removed her sunglasses and looked into Heather's eyes.

"None for me thanks."

Her eyes were vaguely almond-shaped, slightly Asian, but they were large
and deep blue. It was hard to tell where she was from. She finished rubbing
the lotion over herself.

Denise gently guided Heather back down onto the towel and started rubbing
the girl's ass again. Heather cooed and raised her hips slightly to meet
her hands.

Kitten wound her hair into a quick bun and lay down on her side next to
Denise. She laid both her hands on Heather's ass, gently spread her, and
fluttered her tongue across the girl's anus.

"Oohh, ahh!" Heather's entire body seized up and her eyes flew open at the
feeling of something hot and wet touching her most intimate place. She
started to squirm away, feeling very vulnerable and afraid despite the
shivers of pleasure Kitten was causing to run up and down her spine.

Denise had discarded her bikini top and was pulling her bottoms off when
Heather started pulling away. She laid soft but firm hands on the girl's
shoulders, holding her down.

"Don't," Heather pleaded. "Make her s-stop."

"Why, honey?" Denise asked, massaging her breasts and back at the same
time.

"It's d-dirty," she said.

The woman suppressed a smile. She had been a witness for every sexual state
of mind Heather had ever experienced and she could see the telltale signs
of her arousal. She thought the look of shock, and fear, on her face was
precious.

"But Kitten only wants the best for you," Denise said as she positioned
herself in front of Heather, spreading her legs and getting closer to the
panting girl. "Why do you think it's dirty? You're obviously enjoying
yourself."

Denise saw Kitten's hands. The nails were obviously manicured, but they
were short nearly to the quick. Her cuticles were immaculate, no
hangnails. Kitten was flawless. No rough skin or hard edges to scrape
against the softest or most sensitive flesh. Denise imagined the woman
touched nothing heavier than her briefcase, lest she risk a callus.

She had to admire Catherine; the woman was a dedicated perfectionist and
her Kitten was a pure reflection of that force of will. If the exotic
girl's appearance ever differed by the merest fraction, Catherine would
spot it in a second.

Kitten's tongue swirled around the small opening, exerting soft and
terrible pressure on Heather. She snaked a hand in between the girl's
thighs and gently parted the lips of her pussy to worry her clit, forcing
new cries out of her.

Her face was anguished, wracked by pleasure and guilt, "No, I'm not."

She looked up along Heather's spine, "Miss Heather thinks a nice girl
doesn't let someone play with her ass. Is she religious?"

With that, she began to worm her forefinger into Heather's bottom,
eliciting a new set of whimpering cries from her. Pivoting on her free
hand, she turned over in a single balletic movement onto her back, "I once
met a churchy girl who demanded I call her a different name when we were in
bed. That way she could finger herself guilt-free when she watched the
videos of her fucking my ass afterward."

Kitten locked her tongue against Heather's clit and started lapping
hard. She gently worked another finger into her ass. She knew from the
shivering and complaining the girl was very new, perhaps only a few months,
to sex.

Heather was horrified. A strange woman, one she had only met minutes ago,
had her fingers where no one, counting Denise, Steven and every doctor
since her birth had been. She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn around and
say she was being hurt, being harmed. Heather felt like crying because she
couldn't honestly say either of those things.

Denise guided the girl's head down to her wet folds and coaxed her to start
licking. Because she didn't want to say anything else, Heather dipped her
tongue into her employer and clamped her eyes shut.


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